


Written In Runes

by Nayona



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Hurt/Comfort, I refuse to let these two die, Kinda, M/M, Magic-Users, Nicaise (Captive Prince) Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phobias, Runes, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, So many things blowing up, trigger warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nayona/pseuds/Nayona
Summary: "Look around you, Damianos. The world is all about runes. It doesn't matter how advanced our technology is, how high skyscrapers are, how many laboratories or factories we build. It doesn't matter how well behaved and disciplined the army is or how lethal we can make our weapons. What does matter are the runes and who is able to use them. Because contrary to what you may think, it's magic that runs this world, not technology. The abilities of our machinery, the fate of this society, even our own existence - it's all written in runes. So whoever is able to control the oldest runes, has the world on its knees."
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 103
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I've been working on this fic for a while now and I'm very excited to finally share it with you :)  
> Special thanks to my dear friend Paulina, who's been my personal cheerleader since the very beginning, and also two wonderful writers - Maca and Alina - who keep encouraging me to write this story. This chapter is for you! <3  
> Enjoy!

Ignoring people has never been an issue to Laurent.

It was rather easy for him. He would exchange polite greetings, put on a noticeable but fake smile whenever it was required of him and then, slowly but surely, remove himself until he became a part of the background. Once he got there, nobody cared for his presence anymore. To other people he was as good as mere decoration – pretty to look at for a few seconds but other than that not worth their attention. And he was more than fine with it. Especially in public places, Laurent tended to keep to himself, not keen to make acquaintance with strangers.

On this particular day he was too on edge to properly not give a shit about other people.

Laurent put his tablet down with a sigh. Usually he was able to read everywhere. It didn’t matter whether the place was bustling or quiet like a graveyard. If Laurent had a book on him, the rest of the world was as good as dead to him. Well, apparently the airport was an exception.

He shifted slightly in his chair and looked at the hurrying crowd a few meters away from the sitting area. Men and women were walking back and forth, most of them travelling on the moving walkway, their tight jackets and coats as colorful as peacocks’ feathers, fingers clasped tightly on the handle of their luggage, floating slightly above the ground behind them. Some people noticed Laurent’s gaze on them and moved faster, eager to get away from his icy blue eyes.

After a few minutes he got bored again and glanced over at departures board. Suddenly he regretted his decision to arrive at the airport as early as he did. But only for a moment. He quickly reminded himself why he came to the airport more than an hour before any normal human being would. 

_Passengers of flight 659ARA from Arles to Marlas please move to gate 9. Boarding starts in 15 minutes._

Laurent winced slightly at the announcement. He knew he should’ve bought a plane ticket as he wanted to. Three hours of being confined in an overcrowded tin can would be much more bearable than sitting next to a man that smelled as if he hasn’t seen a shower in a month while being bored to death. He didn't particularly like flying but he was desperate to do something.

Unfortunately, Laurent was unable to refuse his mother who insisted on her son traveling appropriately to his status.

Which is why Laurent was now waiting for his turn on a fucking teleport. 

He moved his gaze upwards, where behind glass walls countless suitcases floated from one place to another, in order to be picked up by either the owner themselves or by airport staff to load them on a plane.

Laurent glanced at his own luggage by his side. It was standard size, in his favourite shade of midnight blue, big enough to pack clothes for a week but smaller so that he wouldn’t have to pay additional fee. He wasn’t worried about running out of clothing. The rest of his things were packed carefully in boxes, ready to be shipped by his mother in a few hours.

He picked up his tablet, opened the book he has been previously reading and when he finally immersed himself in the story, another announcement filled the waiting area. This time the blond man stood up, gathered his belongings and grabbed the handle of his suitcase, pressing a small button that made his luggage hover above the ground.

Following neon signs, Laurent walked through the airport. He ignored obnoxiously colorful stores, which advertisements tried to lure non expecting tourists inside to spend an enormous amount of money on useless trinkets and overpriced alcohol. After several minutes of walking, Laurent stood in front of the teleport entrance. A young woman in a light blue uniform scanned his ticket and smiled brightly.

“Please enter the second door on your left. Have a safe trip, mister Revere!”

“Thank you.” He replied and walked past her.

The corridor looked more sterile than the rest of Arles’ airport. Walls were made of a material resembling marble, while the floor was covered with tasteful white tiles. Still very decorative, as the north of Artes Republic has always been, but here it looked less gaudy without rich, colorful ornamentations.

Laurent knocked on the door and went inside. The room looked somehow similar to laboratories he worked at. It was very spacious, glass walls separated various tech and computers from curious travelers who seemed unable to sit on their asses on the couch and simply wait for their name to be called. He fought the urge to say something to a nosy elderly couple pushing their faces against the glass and sat at the end of the couch. It was surprisingly comfortable.

Thankfully, this time the wait was not too long.

One of the workers, dressed in a white uniform, stood from behind his desk and called several names. Laurent grabbed his suitcase and walked to him.

“Please stand on one of the blue circles.” The man instructed.

Laurent stepped on the large platform. There were several circles on the floor and after a few seconds all of them were occupied by him and other people. He moved his luggage closer to him, suddenly anxious it won’t appear in Marlas with him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for choosing to travel by our teleport. The journey from Arles Airport to Marlas Airport should take approximately ten seconds. If you suffer from motion sickness, we advise you to close your eyes. You may feel a slight pull in the belly button area. Are there any questions?” The man paused for a second. “Good. We wish you a pleasant stay.”

Another man behind the control panel began counting down.

“Ten, nine…”

The floor underneath began to flash, the light creating a rainbow on the walls.

“...five, four…”

At three Laurent took a deep breath.

“...two, one!”

The teleport room disappeared in a whirlwind of colour. For a split second Laurent couldn’t feel anything under his feet but before he even thought he might fall down, another room started to materialize before his eyes.

Teleport at Marlas Airport looked almost identical as the one at Arles. The same positioning, same number of staff. The difference was the couch here wasn’t blue - it was purple.

“Welcome to Marlas, ladies and gentlemen! Please step off of the platform one at a time.”

Laurent walked to a staff member, also dressed in a purple uniform, although visibly less tight than the blue ones he saw half an hour ago. While he scanned his ticket, Laurent glanced at one of the computer screens, immediately recognizing the operating system they run on. It was the newest version of the program supporting teleports. The newest that went to public use, that is. Laurent would know, he helped develop the upgrade.

He proceeded to the exit of the airport. Laurent couldn’t help but notice obvious differences - shops were not as in one’s face, neon signs more inviting than intimidatingly flashy. People’s clothing instantly gave away where they came from. Northerners (like himself) covered themselves tightly from head to toe, their clothes often ornate and colorful (not like himself, he preferred not to look like a peacock). Southerners wore flowy dresses and shirts that didn’t constrict their movements, colour palette decidedly toned down. People living in the central part of Artes Republic, in Delpha and surrounding regions, managed to find a nice balance - their clothes not as colourful but not plain either, showing more skin and less tight but highlighting everything the owner wanted to draw attention to. 

Laurent tapped at the see through band around his wrist, turning on his watch. He frowned and quickly checked for any unread messages. There was one from his brother but Laurent didn’t bother answering, quickening his pace instead.

Soon enough he reached the exit where a number of people waited for their friends and family. He scanned the small crowd and felt his shoulders relax at the sight of a familiar blond head.

“Laurent!”

Laurent smiled slightly seeing his big brother waving at him like a maniac as soon as he spotted him. Auguste was sometimes like this - overly enthusiastic, all smiles and big gestures, radiating positive energy. He always attracted attention and basked in it, the extrovert that he was. People loved being near him and Auguste liked being in crowds. Usually those crowds consisted of friends and family members but often enough also strangers. Like, for example, at this very moment at the exit of Marlas Airport. Passengers walked by Auguste, looking at him with either mild amusement or slightly annoyed.

Laurent quickly walked to his big brother.

“Please stop acting like an idiot in public.” He said, forgetting the greeting

“How is me being excited to see my baby brother idiotic?” Auguste opened his arms and Laurent stepped closer, winding his free arm around his brother’s middle

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Laurie.” Auguste squeezed him tighter “It’s been too long.”

“You should have flown up to Arles more often then.”

“Well, the last three times I went home, you weren’t there, busy working on some old ass runes around Artes.”

“Those were artefacts with runes from The Divided Period, of course I had to see them.” 

Auguste put an arm around Laurent’s shoulders and led him to the exit. 

“It doesn’t matter because you’re here now! Finally!”

“Yes, I needed a good reason to come to Marlas.” 

“Visiting your brother isn’t enough for you to get a plane ticket?” Auguste gasped, feigning surprise and Laurent just glared at him.

Eventually they both laughed and got into a car. It was half glass and half shining silver metal, shaped in a very smooth aerodynamic form. They put Laurent’s suitcase in the trunk and got in, Auguste on the driver’s seat.

They drove for a second in silence and then Laurent asked “Is this your car or…”

“Hell no.” The older man laughed. “I wish it was mine. It’s the company’s property but we can use them as we please. Well” he corrected himself. “mostly as we want. There’s a register and you need to let the office know sometime before you’ll be taking a car. And they don’t rent anything to newbies so…”

“So you’re an important veteran, I understand, old man.” Laurent smirked at his brother’s semi-annoyed face.

“Today you’re the important one, Laurent. The boss is very excited to meet you.”

Laurent already knew that from Auguste’s previous phone calls, the message from said boss himself and also his father who at that particular moment was less a pain in his ass than usual.

He was also excited, although he probably wouldn’t admit it out loud for a while and maybe only in his brother and mother’s presence. Laurent was looking for an opportunity to move out from Arles for ages and thanks to Auguste, he finally managed to do exactly that.

“Thank you for recommending me to him, Auguste.” Said Laurent, smiling at his brother. “It means a lot.”

“Who else would I recommend? You’re literally the smartest person I know. I think you might be even more brilliant than uncle.”

“Don’t be silly, Auguste, uncle has like thirty years worth of advantage on me.”

“Yeah and that’s literally the only thing he’s ahead of you.” Auguste insisted. “Years of practice, nothing else.”

Laurent bit his tongue. They had this conversation many times before. His brother had always insisted Laurent is the smartest person in their family, ever since he was ten years old and started showing his predisposition for science for the first time. If he were to be honest, Laurent thought Auguste was ridiculous for saying all those things. Yes, he may be smart. Yes, he might have graduated both valedictorian and with a record score at final exams. But that didn’t mean he was smarter than their uncle who had also been extraordinary at school and had spent decades familiarizing himself with various types of runes and mastering their usage.

Laurent wasn’t overly fond of the man but he’s not self-centered enough to think himself better than the uncle.

“Should I know anything before going in there?” He asked after several moments of silence.

“Be nice to everyone.” Auguste glanced at the smaller man and sighed. “As nice as you can stomach. It’s in your best interest to make friends at the HQ, Laurent. You’ll be living with them for who knows how long.”

“Few months at least, I'd say. At least that’s what Makedon wrote to me.”

They moved swiftly through Marlas. It was late evening, the sun was going down, casting long shadows and enlacing everything in flame-like light. The buildings were slightly different than those in Arles. People kept building tall facilities in both places but when in the north there was more stone, concrete and neon, here flashing signs were more strategically distributed and their light reflected from glass walls, making it seem like the whole street was one big glowing rainbow. Despite the late hour, there were a lot of people outside, either walking from one place to another or lounging at cafes, enjoying the last few weeks of warmer weather. Laurent thought it would have been nice to just sit outside, sip some coffee and read a book but he wasn’t here on a vacation. He came here to work.

Finally, Auguste took a turn and drove into a vast underground garage. There were a lot of cars similar to the one they were in, the only difference was some of them had different colours instead of silver and others had more or less seats.

While Auguste returned the keys, Laurent signed provided documents and received his ID card. Thankfully, staff at Spectrum HQ at Marlas didn’t deem it necessary to drown their employees in tons of paperwork. It was the first thing Laurent liked better than Arles and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

Auguste led him to the elevator and talked about apparently everything that came to his mind. Laurent didn’t even consider stopping him. The last time they could have a conversation like this in person was years ago. The twelve year age gap between them never caused them to drift apart because since the beginning Auguste did everything he could to have a close relationship with his brother. But video conferences never were as fulfilling as face to face conversation. There was something about being able to touch the other person, to be in each other’s presence that just wasn’t there without being physically in the same space.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone!” Auguste smiled, thrilled by the idea of his brother meeting his friends. “There’s Nikandros, he’s kinda grumpy but very loyal and excellent at close combat; Isander is just adorable, precious little thing, he’s making sure everyone is as healthy as possible and will personally feed you your vegetables if he finds out you’re not eating them; I feel like you’ll get on well with Jokaste, she’s our head scientist and basically a female version of you. There’s also Nicaise, also in the science departament and I think you two are going to either love or murder each other. Oh,” older man added. “And Damen, one of my best friends ever, he’s a few years older than you but that bastard is probably better at being a warrior than I am.”

Laurent shot his brother a disbelieving look.

“I find it hard to believe.”

“We have a fifty-fifty winning rate whenever we spar. I’m telling you, the only reason I’m the captain and not him is that I’ve spent more years here. ”

He still wasn’t convinced. He had watched his big brother train and kick other people’s asses since he was four years old. In his mind, Auguste was nearly invincible. So far nothing proved him wrong, he has yet to actually witness Auguste losing to someone and see him return from the field with more than a few scratches and bruises.

The elevator door slid aside and they walked into a wide corridor. It was not late enough for the employees to retire so Laurent was greeted with a sight of several people dressed in almost identical purple uniforms talking in small groups or strolling. As brothers walked past them, people smiled at them and nodded in greetings but none tried to stop them for a chat. Laurent appreciated it. He was still slightly irritated after the goodbye he got at home in Arles and he would prefer to wait with any unnecessary social interaction until the next morning.

So far the Marlas HQ looked quite similar to the one in Arles. The walls were covered in white, slightly curved panels making the corridor seem like a tunnel of sorts. Every few meters there were doors, branded by a sign placed strategically so nobody would walk into the wrong room by accident. Fluorescent light was toned down so it wouldn’t hurt people’s eyes. The emergency route was marked in purple. Laurent had never paid it much mind but now he realizes there must be some colour theme in every region. In the north it certainly was blue, here apparently purple. He wondered which colour was assigned in the southern regions.

Auguste stopped before the biggest door at the very end of the corridor. He knocked and walked in without waiting for an invite.

The laboratory was bigger than he expected. It was of similar size to his previous workplace. There was enough room for several desks, each separated from others with a glass wall that one could either display the data on or darken whenever there was a need for privacy. He spotted a few storages at the back of the room, a big bookcase covering a whole wall, filled with countless books on runes (Laurent couldn’t wait to look through the volumes). In the middle of the room stood a big see-through table, currently occupied by a blonde woman and brown haired young man, looking down at some documents. They raised their heads at the brothers’ arrival.

“Good evening, Jokaste.” Auguste smiled. “Hello, Nicaise.”

“Did you want something? We’re busy, unlike you.” The man grimaced as if he smelled something unpleasant.

The woman eyed Laurent up and down, clearly taking mental notes on anything she could spot. He did the same and almost smiled, seeing the exact moment she realized they both played the same game. Almost smiled. She had yet to prove she was better at him at judging people.

“So you’re our new resident genius.” Her tone was carefully neutral.

“So you’re my new temporary boss.” Laurent replied.

“Temporary?” Jokaste raised her perfectly styled eyebrow.

“The tables tend to turn in my favour whenever runes are concerned.”

They sized each other up for several seconds, the air tense between them. Finally, Jokaste smiled.

“Good. I like when my coworkers make a challenge. It forces everyone to be more efficient.” She extended a delicate, manicured hand. “Jokaste Galanis.”

“Laurent Revere.” He noticed how warm her hand was and took a mental note to check later if the tech underneath the table wasn’t overheating.

“I’m Nicaise.” The brown-haired man still looked as if someone took a shit right before him. “Don’t piss me off or I’ll put seagull porn in your computer.”

Laurent already knew he was going to like Nicaise.

Auguste coughed, reminding the three scientists he hadn't left yet.

“So, did you have any business here or are you just playing a tour guide?” Jokaste asked, her expression mildly amused.

“No, I just wanted to introduce Laurent to you before I showed him his room.” Auguste explained.

Jokaste nodded. “Yes, it’s a bit late to start anything. I’ll show you the reports of the newly found runes tomorrow morning.” She informed Laurent.

“When can I see them myself?”

“We uncovered only a small fraction of the inscriptions. There’s more underneath a whole lot of rock, that much we were able to determine after a quick scan. We’re going to need to drill.”

Laurent opened his mouth to ask more questions when screens and lamps around them started blinking furiously and within moments everything went black.

“Fucking shit!” Nicaise cursed and Laurent could hear the scowl in his voice. He was able to see it when purple emergency lights turned on a second later.

“I thought I told you to fix it.” Jokaste sighed.

“I did! More than once!”

“If you did it would work properly.”

“Not my fault this generator is a piece of shit.”

“Generator malfunction?” Laurent asked.

“Yes. Want to take a look at it?” the woman’s smirk looked almost ominous in the purple luminescence. “Consider it your trial job.”

What the hell, he thought. He was going to look inside the energy source’s guts anyways.

“Lead the way.”

“I need to put the documents away, Nicaise will take you.”

The three of them headed outside, leaving Jokaste to her own devices, the smallest man at the front with a flashlight in his hand and an expression on his face that grew more annoyed with every step. Laurent could tell by the way his shoulders tensed every now and then.

Nicaise led them a few floors down. It took some time, as they couldn’t use the elevator without power and had to take the staircase instead. Laurent focused on the sound of his brother’s breathing and did his best to not look at shadows dancing on the walls. He knew Auguste kept glancing at him so he deliberately relaxed his posture.

After a long walk to, as Laurent assumed, the underground levels of the HQ, they finally stopped before a massive iron door.

“Hold this.” Nicaise showed the flashlight into Auguste’s hands and took the keys out.

While Nicaise looked for the right key, a beam of light appeared from around the corner.

“Hey!” A deep, masculine voice drowned out Nicaise’s cursing. “I thought everyone already went to bed.”

“You're still here, Damen?” Auguste moved the light to his friend and Laurent was able to take a quick look at him before Nicaise screamed at his brother to lighten the keyhole.

Damen was approximately the same height as Auguste but his shoulders were broader. He had a darker complexion, brown hair - it was hard to determine the exact shade in this lighting - and a big smile on his face. Laurent couldn't comprehend why anyone would smile standing in darkness.

“Yeah, the lights went out again and I wanted to see if there was anything I might help with.” 

“Should’ve sat on your ass and waited. You’re useless here.” Nicaise opened the door and yanked the flashlight from Auguste’s grasp.

“I was showing my brother his new workplace and Jokaste said he should go down here and give it a try.”

“Oh, is this your brother?” Suddenly the beam of light moved from the floor and landed straight on Laurent’s face. “Nice to meet you! I’m Damianos Vallis but everyone calls me Damen. And you’re...”

“Blinded.” Laurent cut him off and he moved towards the door, blinking the spots in his eyes away.

After a short while he could see his surroundings clearly enough not to bump into anything fragile. There were a lot more emergency lights inside the generator chamber than in the corridor and he felt more confident with moving around.

Laurent walked up to Nicaise, currently preoccupied with murmuring curses at the machine before him.

“How many times has this happened before?”

“Too many.” The other scientist growled.

“Is there any blueprint I can look at?” 

“A blueprint?” Laurent turned around and glared at his brother’s friend, who also came inside for whatever reason.

“Yes, a blueprint. It’s a detailed drawing which shows where certains runes are so people can find and fix them faster.” His voice was colder than Vaskian glacier.

“I know what it is, no need to talk to me this way, I’m not a child.” Damen crossed his arms on his chest, clearly offended.

“You might as well be if you need to ask such basic questions.”

“Laurent.” Auguste reprimanded him but Laurent’s mood was already ruined and he didn’t feel like being nice to an idiot.

“I thought your friends were smarter, Auguste.” He didn’t wait for a response and turned to Nicaise who managed to find the blueprint in the meantime.

“Show me the sections you already checked.”

It turned out that Nicaise inspected nearly one fourth of runes on the generator. Laurent took the flashlight and briefly looked through the other possible places that could cause the issue. Not long after, he walked up to the generator. It consisted of a dozen hoops, each covered with a certain set of runes, interwinding each other and forming a sphere. He moved them around for a bit, looking for the one he believed malfunctioned and checked the symbols closely.

“Hand me the quil.” 

Nicaise placed a long, cold object in Laurent’s outstretched hand. He immediately liked it more than the quil people in Arles gave him. This one was simple, smooth, whereas his previous one was carved and had a fucking decorative iron feather which always jabbed him in the arm until it bruised.

Laurent moved the flashlight closer to the hoop and quickly found the faulty rune. He pressed the sharp end of the quill to the surface and with few precise strokes removed the rust, cleaning the rune. After handing the tool back to Nicaise, Laurent grabbed the nearest handle and pushed it, putting the machine in motion.

The power was back within a second.

“Good job, brother.”

“I bet it goes to shit again tomorrow.” Nicaise snorted but Laurent saw in his eyes the younger man knew there wasn’t going to be any power outages anytime soon.

The blond glanced quickly at Damianos and something about the way his lips pressed into a narrow line made Laurent very smug.

“Come on, Auguste, show me to my quarters. I want to unpack and eat something. I’ll see you tomorrow, Nicaise.” He said and walked to the door, presumptuously ignoring Damen on his way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Chapter 2, this time in Damen's POV :)  
> Enjoy!

His steady footsteps echoed between concrete walls of buildings around him. It was still early. The sun barely rose a bit over the horizon, illuminating the field in warm, golden light. Frostiness had yet to melt from the grass after the first of many cold nights that were soon to come. Despite the lower temperature, Damen ran without his jumper, the exercise keeping him warm in an undershirt. He kept his breathing measured, calm, focusing on completing his daily laps on the outside field. In just a few weeks it would be idiotic to run outside and he intended to make the best use of the last warm weeks of autumn.

Sun changed its position a bit more before the seethrough band on his wrist vibrated, communicating the end of the warm up run. Damen trotted to the door, grabbed the bottle of water and the jumper and walked inside.

As he walked through the empty corridors, Damen sipped his water and went through his schedule for the day.

After the warm up (which he just completed a few minutes ago), there were several hours of training. Dinner break. Some office hours, which basically everyone in the warriors section despised. Sometimes it made no sense to Damen. They were always required to make a report after a mission. Why would anyone need them to write a monthly summaries and other useless stuff? They could ask someone from the science departament to do it for them instead, some of those people seemed so bored sometimes. And they were used to sitting on their asses for hours and hours, unlike warriors.

Damen stopped for a while at the cafeteria. He hasn't had any breakfast yet and it would be a bad idea to start any proper training on an empty stomach. After some consideration he decided on a large protein bar. It was easy and fast to eat and had so many calories that it would sustain him until lunch.

Unlike the outside field or cafeteria, the training area was already occupied by several familiar faces. Some of them trained in pairs on training mats, others practiced solo inside several hologram booths placed along the longer walls of the room.

Damen strode to one of the empty booths. He put his water bottle and jumper by the door and walked inside. The man raised his wrist on which he wore his band and moved it close to the screen on the wall, which beeped, registering his presence and locking the door.

“Set training mode: shooting, weapon of choice: a gun model AX-365, level of difficulty: hard.” He commanded, taking said weapon from its handle by the wall. 

This specific model was his favourite for field missions. It wasn’t heavy enough to make his arm weak after carrying it for some hours but it had a pleasant weight, making it impossible to forget its presence in the holder, which often happened with a few newer models for soldiers with less muscle and experience.

Damen stood in the highlighted area in the middle of the booth. Glass walls darkened, ocasional colorful flashes of light piercing through the blackness. He watched his surroundings with watchful, trained eyes. He ducked, aimed and shot the first holographic figure. More appeared in the corner of his right eye. Damen quickly adjusted his stance and got rid of another three targets. Several other colorful holograms appeared, this time imitating a mobile aggressor in possession of a weapon. Observing the figure’s movements, Damen managed to avoid getting struck, fast enough shooting it in the head.

The computer gradually raised the standards, the holos before him faster, more unpredictable, sometimes attacking in twos or threes. After an hour of running around and shooting targets while in constant high alert, Damen’s undershirt was wet and clung to his chest uncomfortably.

“ _ Training completed. Results: Targets disposed - 100% . Hits taken - 0%.” _

The lights turned off and the walls around once more became see through. Damen smiled when he saw his friend looking at him.

“Impressed?” He asked, bending over to pick up the water which he downed quickly.

“You wish.” Nikandros replied but smiled nonetheless. “You should be faster.”

“Fuck off, Nik.”

Nikandros handed him a small towel and Damen wiped the sweat from his face and neck, nodding in thanks. He always liked the shooting practice. The algorithm allowed him to up the level of difficulty from time to time so he would keep improving. It also sharpened his senses, made him be and stay aware of his surroundings and react as quickly as possible.

But besides the obvious, work and life saving oriented perks, these exercises were very much entertaining.

“Want to spar?” He asked and Nik smirked in response, already walking towards the mats.

Damianos and Nikandros have been best friends since they could remember. The two basically grew up together, their families living next doors in one of the rare areas of Ios which wasn’t packed with skyscrapers, but a bunch of houses with not so small backyards. Their parents had joint barbecues often. The boys ran and played together, sometimes Damen’s older half brother, Kastor, would join them and show them something that had seemed extraordinary at the time to young kids but later in lafe made them laugh at how gullible they had been. They went to school together and, some years later, joined The Academy and began the training.

Damen and Nik have been by each other’s side for all their lives but that didn’t mean their sparring sessions were predictable. No, Nikandros was a damn good fighter, especially at close quarters. Damen knew all his moves by heart just as well as Nik knew his. They worked well together, never stopped challenging one another or making themselves sweat.

It felt as if hours had passed when Nik lifted his hands, signaling he’s had enough. A quick glance and pat on his band told Damen they indeed sparred for approximately ninety minutes.

“What’s wrong, Nikandros?” Damen smirked “Already tired? Should I tell Makedon to add more cardio to your schedule so you could keep up?”

“Shut the fuck up, Vallis. You weren’t the one to lead the team against those bloody rebels yesterday.”

“I was going to ask you about it. Has something happened? You came back later than usual.”

The two made their way towards the showers. Being born and raised in the south, the nudity didn’t bother them as it did people from the central. Or the northerners for that matter, those people were insane with their suffocating clothes and obsession to cover as much as they could.

“The bandits had bombs all over the place.” Nikandros explained as they stepped under the showers, washing off the stickiness from the training. “The building was a storage, full of tech and oxygen tanks, highly explosive.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. It took the scientist an eternity to locate the main trigger and switch it off so we could get inside without losing our limbs.” Nikandros muttered, unamused. 

“Was he that slow? Who did you take?” Damen was surprised. 

All of the scientists he knew at their HQ were very good, efficient and focused. He’s never had any issues with how they did their job while on the field and it was quite unusual in his opinion. As far as Damen knew, Makedon employed only the best.

“I mean, I don’t want to throw the kid under the bus,” Nik replied, his voice muffled by the sound of the shower, “because he was clearly young. And most likely new so I’m not surprised he was nervous. But that’s what the training and initiation are for!”

Damen hummed with agreement to his friend’s words. Every single one of the Spectrum agents, whether they were appointed to Warriors, Healers or Scientists, were required to undergo a thorough month long training course immediately after their employment. Only after passing the final psychological evaluation were they granted the permit to take part in field missions. It was unacceptable if one of their scientists got permission to go with Nikandros’ team and his nerves delayed everyone else.

After they washed up and changed their clothes, the two men strode to the cafeteria together. Nik continued their conversation as they put the food on their plates - lots of vegetables and a fish, for which Damen would have to thank Makedon, it’s been a long time since they got fish - and expressed his relief over the fact that there were no hostages in that building.

“I have no idea what we would’ve done if there were people inside. But it wouldn’t end well for that boy.” He scowled. “If anyone got hurt because he couldn’t get a hold of himself…”

“Thankfully nobody was injured.” Damen placed a calming hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Why did you take a newbie to defuse a bomb anyway?”

“Everyone higher in rank was busy.” Nik said, his mouth full of carrots. “Apparently the new high rank scientist monopolized half the departament for the whole fucking day. There was no one else available.”

Damen only hummed, half listening to Nikandros as his eyes caught a familiar blond head at the other side of the cafeteria. The golden strands were neatly put into a bun, leaving the beautiful face on full display. She wore the usual purple uniform and scientists’ white apron, which shouldn’t make her appear that attractive. But there was something about Jokaste in an apron that made Damen smirk.

She noticed him almost immediately, like always, and returned the smile with one of her own. His heart beat faster at the sight. Jokaste didn’t smile often but when she did, it made Damen feel as if he was being teased, invited on an incredible and possibly hot adventure.

“Damen, are you listening to… Oh for fuck’s sake.” Nikandros rubbed his temples as if to get rid of an impending headache.

“Hello, Damianos.” Damen’s smile widened when he heard her smooth voice.

“Good afternoon, Jokaste. How are you doing?”

“I’m well, thank you. Got a busy day ahead of me so I need to take this upstairs.” She gestured to the tray in her hands.

“It’s a pity. I was hoping to have lunch with you.” A tiny laugh escaped the blond’s lips at his words.

“So was I.” She took a step behind and threw over her shoulder. “We’ll see each other at dinner though, I’m sure.”

“Bye, Jokaste.”

His gaze followed the woman as she walked away, only turning away as Jokaste disappeared around the corner. Damen sighed dreamily and sat straight in his seat. Immediately he was met with Nikandros’ unapproving stare. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at his best friend. Nik never liked Jokaste. To be honest, Nik hated almost everyone Damen has ever dated. If he didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought it was jealousy but fortunately he did know better.

“Calm your tits, Nikandros,” Damen joked, stuffing his face with a piece of his fish, “or your face will stay like this forever, distorted with disgust.”

“I just can’t comprehend why you can’t just fuck her, get it out of your system and forget.”

Damianos chewed for a moment, pretending to consider this course of action.

“I won’t sleep with her and throw her away.” He replied, preparing himself another bite. It was a really good fish, the meat melting on the tongue. “Jokaste is not a one night stand type of girl.”

“Oh, come on…”

“I’m a gentleman, Nikandros.” Damen waved his fork at Nik’s face. “She deserves at least three dinner dates before I can consider inspecting the contents of her uniform.”

Nikandros swiped his face with his palm, suddenly looking at least a decade older which was a common occurrence whenever they talked about Damen’s current conquest.

“I will refrain from trying to discourage you from pursuing your next target.”

“Which would be…?”

Nik raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t try that with me, I know you too well and I’ve seen the new blond scientist.”

Damen choked on a potato. Frantically reaching for the glass of water, he drank it, trying to wash the food down his throat. When he was sure he wasn’t going to die, Damen’s eyes shot daggers at his companion.

“What makes you think…” He rasped.

Nikandros made a show of counting the reasons on his fingers. “Let’s see - pretty, blond, blue eyes, smart, apparently breathes out acid, did I mention blond?” 

“Not him, Nikandros. Over my dead body,” Damen growled and seeing a disbelief on his friend’s face, he added, “He’s mean! That comment at the generator wasn’t a one time thing. The guy has been here for two weeks and every time we see each other, he behaves as if I was wasting the oxygen. Yesterday he tried to explain to me how the elevator works! And last friday he made fun of my hygiene in front of several newbies because I didn’t notice the mud stain on my ass! I swear, he says or does something every single damn time we cross paths. I’d rather shoot off my own cock than date him.”

“Date who?” Said another voice.

Both men turned around and met a set of piercing blue eyes, very familiar to other blue eyes Damen refused to think about for various reasons. Luckily for him, this blond man instead of making him feel sick to his stomach with his presence alone, always made him smile.

Auguste Revere was Damen’s best friend, Nikandros excluded. He was a few years older than them and held the position of The Warriors’ Captain and therefore answering to Makedon only. Shortly after having been transferred to Marlas, Damianos had some issues, previously being the first in command at Ios HQ. It hadn’t taken much time for him to feel comfortable under Auguste. The man was more than competent. He was reliable, compassionate and exceptionally skilled.

Auguste was also a ray of sunshine, always smiling, which made being in his presence a delight.

“Nobody.” “Your brother.” Damen and Nik said at the same time. Auguste frowned and took a seat next to the latter.

“I thought you were after Jokaste.“ The blond man said slowly, eyeing Damen up. “Why do you want to date my brother?”

“I don’t!” He denied. “Nik thinks so because he might fit my usual type but I can assure you, I have no intentions to even talk to him. I don’t like being offended because I dare to breathe.”

Damen wasn’t about to date the guy only because he fit the usual criteria of what Damen found attractive in another person. Laurent Revere might have beautiful, piercing blue eyes and his chin length golden hair might look especially inviting to run one’s fingers through it’s strands and feel it’s softness. He must be incredibly bright as well, otherwise Makedon wouldn’t have invited him to dig in the ground in search of some old ass runes.

But it didn’t matter whether he was the most beautiful and smart person alive. Laurent was a jerk and Damen wasn’t masochistic enough to want to deal with that.

Auguste hummed and sipped on his drink, eyeing Damen for several seconds. Then he sighed and smiled at him, his expression remorseful.

“I’m sorry he’s been unpleasant. I’ll talk to him about it.” Auguste promised. “I just want you to know it’s not about you. Laurent had some, uhm, personal issues going on before he left Arles and with this whole excavation Makedon made him handle, he’s never got the time to deal with his own feelings. I assure you, when you get to know him and he’s not stressed out, Laurent’s an actual sweetheart.”

Damen doubted anything could make him change his mind and see Laurent as anything else than an asshole but he wasn’t about to tell Auguste that.

“Anyways, ” Damen cleared his throat, “I have no intention of dating your younger brother.”

Auguste laughed and patted Damen’s arm.

“I won’t have to threaten to kill you then.” He joked.

***

The restaurant he picked was a well-known one. The place had good ratings online both for their excellent food and the interior design. The inside was modest compared to most restaurants in the city. There were little to no neon lights, the darkness lit up by vintage lamps, placed by every table in a way that made the patrons feel as if they were the only ones inside enjoying their meals. Several tables were placed in secluded corners, magnifying the illusion of solitude provided by dimmed light.

Jokaste ran her fingers down the wooden wall.

“It’s lovely here, Damen.”

“Do you like it?” She glanced over at him and raised a corner of her lips.

“Very much.”

Damen returned the smile, his eyes not straying away from the woman in front of him. She was beautiful in Spectrum’s uniform and an apron but at this moment she looked truly dazzling. She wore a beautiful, tight red dress, emphasising her curves. The golden locks cascaded down her shoulders resembled liquid gold in the lamp's light. Every now and then Damen found himself drawn to her red lips and the way they left lipstick smudges on the rim of her wine glass.

They talked a bit during the dinner about their work and people at HQ (Jokaste not even once mentioned her new coworker, she was so considerate of Damen’s feelings) but for the most part of the meal they looked at each other, communicating through their eyes and gestures - but never touching, not yet - what they were both thinking about. Damen did his best to not pay too much mind to this silent conversation. If he did, he might’ve been tempted to do what Nikandros dared him to and invite Jokaste to his quarters afterwards. 

But no, Damianos was a gentleman, he would be patient.

And judging by the look Jokaste gave him as he kissed her hand after they went back and he saw his date to her door…

She would make it worth his while. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support, it means a lot to me!  
> I hope you like this chapter.  
> Stay safe and enjoy!

Laurent took a deep, steady breath through his nose. He held the air in his lungs for a few seconds and exhaled slowly through his mouth. He did it several times, his eyes closed as he focused on the air flowing in and out his lungs, the silence around disturbed by the sound of blood buzzing in his ears. Heart has been beating rapidly in Laurent’s chest for some time now but he kept breathing. It would slow down, eventually. Only sometimes it took more time and effort to calm down. This particular morning seemed to be one of these instances. 

When his chest stopped hurting with every beat of his heart, Laurent opened his eyes. The blond man sat up on his bed, immediately noticing the first signs of an impending headache. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Not even ten minutes since he woke up and he was already annoyed.

Looking around, Laurent noticed the lamps were still lit up. He snapped his fingers twice and they turned off, leaving the room in dimmed morning light. 

Although smaller than the quarters in Arles, Laurent liked his new room. It was big enough to contain a single bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe and a desk. Auguste was kind enough to make sure the room his brother got assigned had a big window and a mirror on the wall, both of these things making the place seem optically bigger. Laurent himself didn’t mind smaller spaces, as long as they weren’t… tiny. Suffocating.

And full of shadows.

Luckily, Laurent’s mother managed to send him the lamps the next day after his arrival. Shiver ran down his spine at the memory of the first night. It was a sleepless night, spent in almost absolute darkness and it made him so tired, he snapped at the big warrior guy by the elevators. He wasn’t proud of it but something in Damianos’ face reminded him of the idiot he'd been the previous day and Laurent was far too irritable to bite his own tongue. 

Laurent quickly pushed the thoughts of the man out of his mind. He wasn’t about to make the throbbing in his skull worse willingly.

After washing his face and putting on a uniform, Laurent left his quarters and walked down the corridor. He’s been to the medical wing only once before that first morning, asking for a painkiller and to have a mandatory check up. It was almost three weeks ago. Laurent should’ve known the good days wouldn’t last much longer and he’ll be in need of medication sooner or later. If he were to be honest, he was surprised he didn’t get a migraine until now, considering how hard he has been working every day since moving to Marlas.

The door to the medics' office was open. Laurent didn’t bother knocking and just went inside. He remembered where the young medic, Isander was his name, went to get the pills for him the last time he’s been here. There was no need to disturb anyone. He’ll just grab the painkillers and leave. Easy.

Rummaging quickly through the shelves, he found the box he was looking for.

Just as he was reaching out for a pack he intended to take, he heard a voice behind him, “Well well, who do we have here?” 

Laurent turned around and fixed a glare at the owner of the voice. It belonged to a young man with brown hair, tastefully cut so it fell down his face in soft waves, curling slightly around his ears. Green eyes narrowed, eyeing Laurent up and down, and the man scowled as if he saw something truly disgusting. The blond was certain his face held the same expression.

He knew this motherfucker.

“What are you doing here, Aimeric?” Laurent asked, his voice as cold as Vaskian icebergs.

“This is my territory, as far as I’m concerned it’s you who shouldn’t be here,” Aimeric scoffed and crossed his arms. He smirked, “Are you finally dying? I can find something to end your suffering faster if you want. There’s no need to waste the oxygen any longer, Laurent.”

“You wish,” after a single beat of silence he added, “have they gotten sick of you in Fortaine at last? Are you on exile?”

A corner of Aimeric’s mouth jerked. Laurent basked in complacency.

“Cast iron bitch.”

“Condescending dick.”

They stared daggers at each other for a few seconds. Suddenly Aimeric strode over, closing the distance between them. He raised his hand… and drew Laurent into a hug.

“I missed you, you piece of shit.”

Laurent smiled into the man’s shoulder and returned the hug.

“I called you on Saturday.”

“Yeah but the video chat or a hologram is not the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Laurent agreed. It was the same issue he’s had with contacting Auguste before he got transferred to Marlas. Although he called both Auguste and Aimeric frequently, there was always something missing. Something that was present only while in person.

He took a step back so he could look at his friend. “How long has it been since we met face to face? Three months?”

“Six,” Aimeric corrected and smacked him lightly on the chest, “You were supposed to visit me during summer, you bitch. Even my mom was sad when you cancelled.”

Laurent grimaced. He liked Loyse. His friend’s mother has always been kind to him and asked about his well being on a regular basis. Laurent hated the possibility of making her sad.

“I’ll send her a flower basket,” he promised, “But seriously, Aimeric, what are you doing in Marlas?”

Aimeric shrugged. “I got sick of Fortaine. You moved here and I thought it might be time for me to make some changes as well. Marlas seemed like a good idea, it’s not that far from home in case I wanted to see mom and you’re here, so I applied for a transfer.”

Laurent nodded in understanding. He knew exactly what Aimeric meant by wanting to leave his hometown. Their reasons were the same, for the most part.

Laurent tapped his wrist band and grimaced as he checked the time. “Can I see you at lunch? I need to go to my office soon.”

“Sure thing, we can catch up later. I have things to do too.” Aimeric gestured towards the small box in Laurent’s hand, “What’s that for?”

“Migraine. The head medic gave these to me for my previous headache and I have a long day ahead so...”

“Put them back, they’ll only make you drowsy. I’ll give you something better.”

Aimeric walked up to the shelves and after quick search came back with another set of pills.

“Thanks. I thought I’d fall asleep on my desk the last time I took those.” Laurent took the medicine from his friend and smiled, grateful.

“I haven’t forgotten what works for you yet. Now, go away and stop bothering me,” he leaned against the cabinet and waved him away.

“See you later.” Laurent laughed and headed towards his office in a way better mood.

The smile hadn’t yet left his face when he opened the door to the main scientists’ laboratory. It wasn’t a big smile but it was there. Not even the throbbing in his skull made Laurent’s good mood go away.

Slipping onto his chair, Laurent took a single water bottle from under his desk. After a quick inspection of the recommendations at the back of the box, he took two pills and washed them down with a sip. His eyes closed as he leaned against the backrest. The medicine should kick in soon and it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he got some rest in the meantime.

“You fine?”

Laurent tipped his head back and reluctantly opened one eye, looking at his coworker. Nicaise sat at his own desk at the other side of the room, his feet on the countertop. The younger man eyed Laurent suspiciously while nibbling a carrot.

“This?” Laurent lifted the packet of painkillers, “It’s nothing, just a headache.”

“I’m not talking about the fucking drugs,” Nicaise scoffed and bit off a big chunk of his carrot, “You were smiling when you walked in. You don’t smile. Are you ill?”

Laurent bit down the laugh that was threatening to come out. He rarely smiled around other people, especially recently acquainted and this tiny detail didn’t escape Nicaise’s notice. The kid is perceptive, he thought. Good. It’s a necessary trait in this line of work.

“I smile sometimes, you know.” Laurent shifted in the chair and closed his eyes again. The medicine from Aimeric started doing it’s magic and the pain began decreasing.

“The only time I saw you smile was last week when you verbally eviscerated Damen after you tripped on his legs in the corridor.”

“He shouldn’t have sat on the floor like a fucking child at school.” Laurent snorted, remembering how he had almost broke his ankle because the idiot decided to stretch his legs right around the fucking corner in the middle of a corridor.

“I know,” Nicaise agreed, his voice thoughtful with a hint of amusement, “His face when you reduced him to filth was the highlight of my day.”

“I’m glad I could provide you with entertainment.”

The silence fell between them but Laurent felt comfortable. Nicaise was abrasive and rude but they formed some sort of camaraderie over the last few weeks. Laurent appreciated his sense of humour, for his own was very similar, and recognised Nicaise’s effort and intellect. Nicaise respected Laurent’s work, dedication and the way Laurent refused to put up with anyone’s bullshit. The two scientists slowly but surely bonded over those things, the same way Aimeric and him had years ago at the Academy.

“I found out this morning my old friend transferred here” Laurent said, disturbing the silence, “That’s why I was smiling.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’d like him, I think,” a small smile danced on Laurent’s lips, “He insulted my existence and called me a cast iron bitch as hello.”

“I prefer him to you already.”

They haven’t talked afterwards, each taking care of their own work. Laurent had no idea what Nicaise was working on but his best bet was on some translation of a text in Veretian runes. The little hellcat seemed to take a liking to the Veretian runes, being fond of them in all their flowery glory - quite literally, those runes were overly decorative and often resembled flowers and vines. Laurent was able to read them, of course, but he personally found them way too complicated. Not only the symbols were complex visually but their interpretation was different depending on what was written next. Sometimes the rune would mean a word, other times one would read it as a single letter. It was unnecessary in Laurent’s opinion and he avoided using them, save for practicing from time to time so he wouldn’t forget the rules. Maybe if they weren’t so ornate, he would like them more. Veretian runes just weren’t his aesthetic.

Laurent busied himself with the reports that piled up on his email overnight. The excavation was under way for almost three weeks. The works went slow but he was in no way bored. With every wall uncovered there was more to do, more to catalogue, to analyze. Laurent was beginning to believe soon there won’t be a single flat surface which hadn’t been covered with runes. And there was much more work to do. The underground skans revealed there was a system of tunnels leading to a massive empty space. It seemed like a maze. Laurent was grateful for the technology. If he were to move around without the map the skans provided, he would have gotten lost immediately.

The thrill went through Laurent’s body at the thought of reaching the mystery chamber. The runes they documented so far were very old, Ancient Artesian, and they mentioned something old and powerful. Ancient Artesian was at least five thousand years old, so if the runes spoke of something older and someone had put so much effort to build a complex maze to hide it…

Laurent was sure he was on the brink of a breakthrough. 

It’s been  _ years _ since he’d been so excited. This excavation was his chance to prove himself. If Laurent played his cards well and worked hard enough, people would recognize his intellect and abilities. Laurent’s father would understand why he was chosen for this task and not someone else. The smile that grew on his face at the thought was bittersweet. 

There was little more Laurent wanted in his life than proving his father wrong, seeing the older man’s face painted with acknowledgement and maybe even a tiny bit of pride. Laurent was displeased with himself for seeking his dad’s approval, for he knew he didn’t necessarily need it to continue with his job and be successful at it… But the yearning was there, still.

The blond scientist worked for more or less two hours, translating and cataloging runes his team had uncovered the day before when Jokaste entered the laboratory. She looked flawless, her uniform clean and without a single wrinkle, blond hair put in a smooth bun. 

“Good morning,” said Jokaste.

Laurent returned the greeting while Nicaise only hummed, signalizing he noticed his supervisor’s presence, but didn’t pause whatever he was doing.

“Are you busy, Laurent?”

Laurent turned away from his screens and looked at Jokaste.

“I am, yes,” he watched her as she put on her apron, “Why?”

“Put whatever it is you’re doing away, you can finish it later. I need you to join a team.” 

“A team?” Laurent raised his eyebrows. Usually he didn’t mind working in the field, he even enjoyed it, but he was unsure now was the right time to get distracted. “Don’t get me wrong, Jokaste, but I’m rather occupied and if I stop now I’d have to stay up all night to catch up. I’m sure someone else could go instead.”

The head scientist turned around and fixed a cold, unamused glare on him. Laurent was sure it would intimidate him as much as it did everyone else in the whole HQ if he didn’t possess the same ability.

“But you do want to go,” she responded, her voice flat, “because the team in question is being sent to dispatch a group of rebels stationed very close to where the other entrance to your tunnels would be. I don’t think you’d like them accidentally blowing some walls up, do you?”

Laurent groaned internally. He did not, in fact, want some morons to destroy a piece of his life’s work because they knew no other way to solve problems other than throwing a grenade at everything in sight.

He shut down his computer and stood up. “Fine.”

“Splendid.” Jokaste smiled brightly, her previous coldness disappearing in a second. “The van has already been placed downstairs, necessary equipment is being loaded as we speak. Good luck!”

***

Laurent hurried to the underground parking. Not that he thought the team would leave without him, he knew they couldn’t go without a scientist as it would be against the protocol and Jokaste never mentioned anyone else from their department also joining. 

No, Laurent just wanted to be on time. He hated people being late and it was only fair if he behaved the way he demanded of others. It was the matter of good manners. His mother raised him well. Besides, it wouldn’t put Laurent in a positive light among Spectrum agents at Marlas if he made them wait for him on his first field mission. Making enemies was counterproductive and not something Laurent wanted for himself, both professionally and personally.

As soon as he spotted the van Jokaste mentioned, Laurent picked up his pace - not running though, he wasn’t some random anxious rookie - and walked up to people loading equipment. He started saying hellos, consciously greeting everyone with a small, pleasant smile, like he promised himself we would. It all went well until a familiar dark figure appeared in front of him.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Laurent muttered, the smile gone from his face in an instant.

“Why are you here?” asked Damianos, crossing his massive arms on his chest. Laurent moved his eyes downwards for a split second, noticing how the man’s muscles bulged under the uniform’s material. He wouldn’t stare though, it would give Damianos the impression that Laurent secretly was into him, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The only thing on Laurent’s mind was how Damen seemed to do a lot of exercise for his whole body but not his brain. 

“I was assigned to join as team’s scientist,” said Laurent, determined not to show his irritation to the man. Since he moved to Marlas, Laurent kept running into Damianos, as if he was cursed by some mysterious force determined to see his blood boil.

"For fuck's sake..."

Laurent would argue with him, he absolutely would and the temptation to shut Damen up with just a few words was there, just like a little devil whispering into his ear. Instead he settled for rolling his eyes at the other man and simply walked away.  _ Auguste should be proud of me _ , Laurent thought, _ I held back from being mean to his friend. _

The scientist focused on checking the equipment Jokaste had sent down for him. In the corner of the eye he saw Damianos, fuming. It was apparent that Laurent not engaging in the argument somehow made the warrior even more pissed off than if he did respond.

Laurent's lip twitched.

This mission might be fun in more than one way.

***

After approximately half an hour the van stopped. The agents unbuckled the seat belts and reached for the bulletproof vest, putting them on very quickly. Laurent moved to the front where the scientist's portable desk was put. He opened one of the many stashes and took out a small box.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Laurent raised his voice, immediately drawing a dozen pairs of eyes to himself, "Everyone please take one headpiece each and connect to the main computer so we could all stay in touch. At the back of the vehicle you will find various types of weapons," he informed, "guns, laser blades, some explosives. But please refrain yourself from blowing things up if possible - we're in a close proximity of a very old and important place filled with ancient artefacts which are of great importance to the Spectrum."

"Let's gear up, team, and kick some ass!" Damianos clapped his hands and other warriors went to pick their weapons.

Laurent sat on the chair and watched Damianos walk up to him with a sour expression on his face. There was another man beside him, almost as tall and muscular as Damen. His darker complexion suggested southern heritage. The man put his longer hair in a bun while watching Laurent warily.

"What do you think you're doing?" Damianos asked.

Laurent turned on the computer and watched as the three screens lit up and a glowing holographic keyboard appeared in front of him. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're not the team leader today," he replied, "I am. So why were you just ordering my people around?"

"It's in my job description to inform everyone about the equipment, the necessity of a functional communication channel and relevant facts about the surroundings. How is me doing my job an offense to you?"

"Listen, we have a hierarchy in Marlas and you need to respect that." The other man chimed in and Damianos nodded.

"And who are you exactly?" Laurent glared at him.

"Nikandros."

"Nikandros." Laurent muttered. He could recall Auguste mentioning someone with this name. "You know, I'm starting to question my brother's taste in friends and his judgement of people in general. He assured me his friends are nice but so far I've mostly met some unpleasant brutes."

Nikandros' face turned a shade darker with anger.

"Who's unpleasant here, you fucking little…"

"Enough, Nik, he's not worth it." Damianos laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, interrupting whatever he was about to call Laurent. "And you," he turned to the scientist, "I'm in command here, not you. So don't try to do anything more than watching our backs or I'll have a chat with Makedon about it later. Understood?"

So he basically just threatened to run and cry to the boss. Laurent couldn't believe someone so childish was given such a responsible position. Before any of these could leave his mouth, he reminded himself he was not to make enemies - worse than he already seemed to acquire - on his very first field mission. Even if it was ridiculous, having some idiot complain about him to Makedon wouldn't do him any good. The boss barely met Laurent twice. He couldn't afford him liking Laurent any less than he did. There was too much at stake.

The two warriors turned around and walked away, Nikandros saying something about Damen being right in his judgement about Laurent. The blond couldn't care less. He only had to be civil with them, not friendly. Everyone who should like him at least a bit already did.

Laurent put on his own headpiece and connected it to the communication channel, checking if everyone was online as well. He moved the keyboard closer and typed in a short command. The screens around him glitched and cleared as the cameras on the top of the van and on the warriors’ headpieces turned on one by one.

Laurent listened to Damianos giving out the orders in an authoritative but pleasant voice and he couldn’t help thinking the man seemed to be a good leader. The others clearly followed him without any doubts, confident that their commander cared about their safety during the mission. That was the only positive thing the scientist could say about Damianos after three weeks of unwelcome encounters.

“ _ Can we have a visual of the area _ ?” The leader asked, his voice slightly distorted in Laurent’s ear.

“Sending out the dron,” Laurent responded, turning on the machine, “forwarding the visual to your headpieces.”

The dron rose quietly into the air and flew over the warriors’ heads. Laurent turned on the remote control. The hologram sphere appeared by his right hand, glistening with the artificial light. He tested out the controller, moving his palm a bit to the sides and observing the machine on the screen. Everything worked flawlessly. Laurent flew it further and forwarded the image to his teammates.

The area in front of them was a part of an older district, one that was semi-abandoned for several years. The buildings were neglected, paint fading and peeling off the walls, pieces of rubble lying around on the streets. There were no glowing neon signs on the walls, the whole area grim and grey.

Laurent moved the dron around and soon enough he spotted the rebels. There were about two dozen of them - men and women dressed in grey, scrappy clothes but nonetheless armed. One short flick of the wrist zoomed the camera onto one of the rebels.

“Twenty men and women, armed with machine guns of the older generation,” Laurent informed, “They’re hiding behind the overturned containers, 20 meters to your left.”

“ _ Copy that. _ ”

Laurent glanced to the other screen to check on the team’s position. They moved as if they were one organism, their steps coordinated, Damianos leading at the front flanked by Nikandros. They stopped behind a broken vehicle and peeked around the corner. The leader quietly signaled the team their orders. One of the women took out a narrow tube. She snapped it in half and threw it in the rebels’ direction. The team put on masks as the air filled with smoke.

Laurent flew the drone higher so he could see the whole area, just in case they missed another group. He checked the screen frequently, but the rest of his attention was on the visual from the teams’ headpieces.

Soon after the smoke bomb went off, the rebels started screaming and abandoned their hideout. They immediately started shooting. The Spectrum agents pulled out their shields and charged with weapons in their hands. They opened fire at the rebels, able to locate them much quicker thanks to the masks and the goggles which made it easier to see in the fog. Laurent watched as the rebels fell down one by one. He knew they were only unconscious. The Spectrum agents always had their weapons set to stun, unless the situation was dire and they had different orders.

There were two rebels still fighting when Laurent noticed a third one, creeping on Damianos from behind. Realizing the man wouldn’t be fast enough to turn around and cover himself with his shield, Laurent quickly activated the gun hidden in the drone, pointed it at the rebel and shot him down.

Damianos’ camera blurred for a second as he looked around his shoulder.

_ “What was that?” _ he asked.

“A lone wolf about to jump on you. You’re welcome.” The scientist smirked. He glanced at the image from the drone. The smoke was dissolving and Laurent noticed a pile of packages at the corner of the screen. “There are several packages ten meters to your right. Judging by the symbols, they’re likely explosives.”

_ “Got it.” _

Damianos pulled out a grenade, took the pin out…

“Don’t throw it, there’s a tunnel full of ancient runes behind that wall…!”

...and threw it at the packages.

The van shook from the impact of the explosion. The two medics sitting at the back seats covered their ears and shivered, startled. 

“I fucking told him not to throw it!” Laurent growled and ran out of the vehicle.

The dust was settling down when he reached the team. The warriors were taking off their masks and were clearly surprised by Laurent’s presence.

“Why didn’t you stay in the…”

“I asked you not to throw the grenade!” The scientist pointed a finger at Damianos’ round chest. He was seething. “You could’ve destroyed thousands of years worth of history!”

“I didn’t though, did I?” Vallis took a few steps in the direction of the newly made hole in the rock. Laurent followed him and entered the tunnel. He turned on the flashlight and examined the walls, looking for any signs of damage.

Damianos stood behind him, observing his surroundings.

“So? Everything good?”

The blond man turned around and narrowed his eyes at the warrior.

“Surprisingly, the runes seem unscathed.”

Damianos smiled. “They look late Artesian.”

“They’re Ancient Artesian.”

“You sure?” The taller man shot him an unbelieving look.

Laurent was silent for a second. Then he replied, deadpan, “I read runes better than you swing your sword, sweetheart,” he looked pointedly at the laser sword, still glowing in Damianos’ grasp, “I would know which period they’re from.”

He left the tunnel, followed by the sound of several warriors’ laughter and Damianos’ stunned expression.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This is the longest chapter so far, it's 7k long and after I finished writing I thought I was going to DIE XDDD  
> Enjoy!

“How much longer?”

“Not long,” responded one of the healers who came along with them on the mission, “There are maybe ten people we need to check up and secure for the ride. After we’ve done that, we’ll be free to go.”

Damen nodded and thanked the man, leaving him to do his job.

Soon after he blew up a hole in the stone and uncovered the tunnel, Nikandros called the HQ and requested a separate van to transport the arrested men and women back with them. The wait wasn’t long but they managed to have several of them check up by the healers to see if there were any unplanned injuries that required immediate medical assistance. Luckily, the rebels suffered just a few bruises and a headache caused by the fall, only a few of them bleeding from several rather minor bruises. One by one they started regaining consciousness only to find themselves cuffed. They certainly didn’t seem to enjoy it.

Damen looked at Nik who just shoved a struggling rebel in the prison van. When their eyes met, his best friend rolled his eyes and Damen laughed at how irritated Nikandros’ face was. If he had to be honest, Nik’s face almost always looked this way; Kastor regularly made jokes about Nikandros being mad at his mother for giving birth to him and never really getting over it. But in this particular situation, Damen could relate. He didn’t want to be there any more than his friend and he counted seconds in his head until they were able to go back to the HQ.

The warrior’s eyes moved on it’s own towards the tunnel entrance, immediately landing on a bright blond head. He sighed. Although the slight irritation at the man had faded away during the fight with the rebels, it creeped back during their argument by the runes.

Damianos was no idiot, despite how much the scientist seemed determined to believe. He made a mistake trying to place the symbols on the wall on the timeline and what about it? The blond most likely didn’t know every single rune in there by heart himself and he was the one who’s supposed to learn as much as possible about them. Not Damen. The warriors weren’t expected to be historians but fighters and the runes required of them were from this exact area only. Damen knew the runes he had been taught at The Academy and was proficient at carving and charging them. It was enough.

He observed as Laurent roamed around, taking pictures of several sections at the entrance to the tunnel and making notes on his holographic notebook. There was an undisturbed focus and determination on his face. As much as he got on his nerves, Damen could respect his dedication to the work he was doing. Over the years he had met a lot of Spectrum agents from all three sections, scientists as well, and many of them, especially the younger ones, characterised by a short attention span and the tendency to get annoyed when the results wouldn’t appear as soon as they wanted them to. Damen couldn’t remember if Auguste ever told him how old his brother was, but it was clear Laurent was a few years younger than him. And yet, every time Damen stumbled at him working, the man was absorbed in whatever he was doing at the moment, almost entirely deaf to the world around him. This trait was something Damen admired in a person and aimed to achieve himself.

_ It’s a pity he’s a self-centered jerk _ , he thought.  _ We could maybe become friends if he was nicer. _

The sound of the gravel under the wheels snapped him out of his head. Damen turned to the road in time to spot two Spectrum vans parking beside the prison vehicle. The warrior pushed off of their own van and walked up to the newcomers. The surprise on his face soon switched to a confused frown when he saw the man exiting one of the vans.

“Makedon, what are you doing here?” Damen asked, clasping hands with his boss.

Makedon was a middle aged man, Damen’s father’s good friend from the years spent at The Academy, much like Damen and Nikandros in some ways. He was broad in the shoulders, built almost entirely out of muscles which were still very strong despite his age, thanks to the continued training he never suspended, even after abandoning the field work to take charge of the whole Delpha district. There were numerous distinct scars marring Makedon’s face, a memento of the many years spent incessantly training and protecting Artes’ citizens’ safety. Despite all these features which suggested he was a tough and relentless man, Makedon’s eyes shone with good humour, another thing he was known for among agents at Marlas.

“Came to check up on you, kids.” He replied, clapping Damen’s back with enough force to trip over someone less well bilt than Damen.

Damen laughed good heartedly. “Come on, Makedon, don’t you trust me to handle a few rouge rebels?”

“How many were there? I didn’t have time to read the report.” The older man glanced in the direction of the prison van in an attempt to spot the arrested men and women.

“A dozen.” Damen said, and after a beat he added, “We didn’t send any report yet. Our scientist is a bit too distracted to do his job.” He remarked, a sliver of annoyance noticeable in his voice.

“You mean the young Revere? Nonsense, he’s doing exactly what he was told to do when I dragged his ass down here from Arles. Laurent, dear boy,” Makedon called and the blond head appeared at the entrance to the tunnel once again, “come on here for a second!”

Laurent abandoned his post and walked to the warriors, his face as blank as always.  _ Maybe that’s why his face seems to be so flawless _ , Damen suddenly wondered, _ the lack of expressions maintaining its smoothness.  _

“Good afternoon, Makedon. What brings you here?” The scientist asked.

“Brought you some cheap labor force to exploit.” Makedon gestured towards the other van that arrived with him and the agents getting out of it. Damen could tell most of them were low ranking scientists, others were definitely warriors.

The corner of Laurent’s mouth raised in what Damen presumed was a small smile. “Excellent. I’ll give out instructions and prepare the report from the mission to be sent to you as soon as possible.”

_ Not so useless after all. _

Although if Damen had to be honest with himself, Laurent kind of proved to be quite useful during the mission. At the very least, Revere certainly knew how to fly and shoot using a drone. 

Before Laurent could walk away, Makedon asked, “You still happy in here, boy? The work’s alright? Nobody’s giving you a hard time?”

“Will you stop asking me one day? I already told you everything’s fine. There’s a lot to do and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Laurent’s gaze flickered towards Damen for half a beat and then he sent another half smile to their boss. “People are fine too. Competent, mostly.”

“Mostly.” Makedon bellowed, drawing the eyes of the people around them. “You gotta give the children some time to learn, dear boy, and they will become a true asset to us all eventually.”

“Of course, boss.”

“You’ll have to drink with me one day, young Revere!” The older warrior yelled after retreating blond, who looked mildly amused by the whole conversation. It was the most facial expression Damen witnessed during the man’s stay at Marlas that wasn’t any sort of annoyance. “You can’t avoid me forever!”

Damen laughed at the words. He remembered when he first arrived at Marlas’ HQ a few years ago. Makedon had intercepted him then right off the bat, literally minutes after he finished unpacking and sat him down in a chair at the bar down the street. Damen could recall thinking it was a bad idea to refuse a few drinks with his new boss, especially considering the circumstances of his transfer from Ios’ Spectrum HQ. He also remembered being curious about Makedon’s favourite drink. 

The conversation they had that evening was very pleasant, full off loud laughs and back slapping. Which was nice. Truly nice. Spending time with Makedon after work was always a lot of fun.

What Damen had not remembered fondly though was the hellish hangover he had the next morning.

After a few mornings like that first one he took Auguste’s advice (a good man, even better friend, heavens bless his soul forever) and began carrying a headache medicine with him every single day. Just in case. One could never know when Makedon decided to abandon his office at the top floor and join his employees for a night out and indulge in his beloved griva.

Damen just shook his head, amused. He might not be friends with the guy but he felt bad for the future Laurent. The hangover after griva was worse than after any other alcohol he’s ever tried. That vile thing was toxic, it had to be. The warrior was often tempted to ask someone from the science departament to run some tests and check if this drink isn't poisonous. He figured nobody would be surprised if it turned out to be at least a bit acidic.

“So you didn’t talk to him yet?” He asked and the boss shrugged.

“We did talk but it was shorter than I wish.” The man grimaced, his scars shifting into angry shapes. 

“You seem to like him though.” Damen couldn’t help but notice.

Makedon laughed. “He’s a nice kid. Leaves an impression of someone too supercilious to care,“ Damen nodded, agreeing with this statement, “but I’ve seen people like him before over the years. I bet you a bottle of griva that he’s actually not that rude. And even if he is,“ he added, seeing the disbelief creeping on the younger warrior’s face, “we gotta make sure he likes it here. This thing,” he gestured towards the tunnel, where Laurent currently led the low ranking scientists, “is important, my boy. If we play this the right way, there will be lots of donations coming our way.”

“That’s why you brought him here?”

“Always knew you’re a smart man, Damianos.” Makedon slapped his back, laughed and walked away.

Watching his boss getting back inside the van, Damen couldn’t help but wonder if the man was right in his judgment of Laurent. Almost everything he observed over the last three weeks was contradictory to Makedon’s words. Laurent himself wasn’t nice to be around and the only time he didn’t hold back a snappy remark was a few hours ago, right after Nikandros and he scolded him over breaking the order of giving the instructions. Damen hated when people ignored the chain of command. It brought unnecessary chaos into the ranks.

Not willing to completely abandon his first impression, Damen decided to simply pay more attention to the newest scientist.

***

“What were you trying to achieve, huh?” The woman didn’t respond.

Since they arrived back at the HQ and escorted the arrested rebels to the prison cells, Damen and Nikandros tried their best to get some information out of them. When asking the whole group collectively brought nothing more than angry glares and sneers, they brought their leader to one of the interrogation rooms. It wasn’t hard to figure out who was the head of the operation - whenever the warriors asked the group a question, there were always several members who glanced at her in hope of receiving directions as to how to behave.

Now the rebel woman sat on a single chair in front of them. Her hands were bound to the handrests by a pair of magnetic cuffs. Even though there was no glass wall between her and the Spectrum agents, and no need for one whatsoever, both men were careful not to step on the thin glowing line drawn around the chair. It was no funny business being thrown back by a force field. They had learnt that lesson the hard way a few years ago.

“There was nothing of substance around,” Nikandros remarked, “nothing but several empty, falling apart buildings. Well,” he paused for a second, “those and the ancient tunnels but there is no way you and your gang of troublemakers could have known about the entrance as we were the ones to blow it up. Everything within ten streets radius around has been abandoned for years. So tell us, what was it about that particular location?”

Once again, the question remained unanswered. The woman didn’t even look at Nik as he talked to her, she just kept staring at the clean white tiles in front of her. She looked almost apathetic with her face void of any emotions and eyes which seemed so far away from where she was being held captive.

Nikandros threw his hands in the air, the frustration taking the best of him. Damen watched his best friend walk to the edge of the interrogation room and turn away from their prisoner. He let the man take a moment to collect himself. Nik wasn’t a patient man, he never was, and it showed in situations like this.

Damen drew his eyes away from his friend and back to the woman.

“I don’t know what you must have heard about us,” he began, making sure radiated calmness, “but we don’t hurt anyone here at Spectrum. Not even the worst kind of criminals and let me assure you, we’ve arrested worse people than your group.”

He saw her hand twitch slightly. It was the first reaction they got out of her since she was sat down on that chair and he decided to try and push further.

“Your silence is not only wasting our time but your own too. And the others’ as well. It’s also making your situation much worse. I’m well informed that the less you say in this room, the more time you’re going to spend behind the bars. But if you talk to us and tell us what that whole mess was really about, you and your friends will be considered cooperative enough to earn an early release.” He leaned down and tried to catch the woman’s eyes. “Talk to me. It’ll help you in the long run.”

After a few seconds she raised her head, the motion messing up the braid her hair was put in. She blew a lone dark brown strand which fell onto her face and fixed Damianos with an angry glare.

“You want to know what our goal was?” The woman's voice was incredulous, almost mocking. “You ask what it was that we tried to gain by letting you ambush us on that street. Well,” she looked around, assessing her surroundings. She laughed; the sound sent chills down Damen’s stomach, “isn’t this a pretty room. Clean tiles everywhere, bright lights, even this chair isn’t that uncomfortable and it’s still just a fucking interrogation room.”

Nikandros stood beside Damen and said, “What does our interior decor have to do with your little outburst?”

“This ‘little outburst’,” she hissed, “is going to be the reason this pretty building of yours sooner than later won’t belong to you anymore.”

Damen and Nikandros exchanged quick glances. The confusion Damen felt was clear in his friend’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

The woman sat more comfortably on her chair, her relaxed demeanor making the warriors slightly uncertain and worried.

“I don’t need to tell you anything, agents. You’ll find out soon enough.”

***

They exited the interrogation room and let other agents take over the woman’s transport. Even though they spent no more than half an hour inside, Damen felt more exhausted than after the fight. Judging by the look on Nik’s face, he could relate.

“What did she mean, Damen?” Nikandros sighed, leaning on the wall in front of the door they just closed.

“I have no idea.”

“I bet I’ll dream about it every day until we find out.”

Damen nodded. The woman’s words would haunt both of them for sure. Usually he would attribute it to the belief that the woman was simply sure there would be more rebellion attacks, just like the one she led herself, but this time he had a distinct feeling it was something else. Something more serious, darker.

Nikandros ran a hand across his face. Suddenly he looked a few years older.

“I think I’ll go take a shower and go to bed.”

“Make sure to eat something. We missed dinner.” Damen pointed out.

“Yeah, right. Want to come with me?”

Before Damen could reply, a familiar blond head appeared in the corridor.

“You two look awful, are you guys ok?” Auguste observed his two friends worriedly. 

“Just a long day,” Damen attempted to smile but he could see on Auguste’s face he failed miserably, “difficult case.”

“How so?”

“We arrested two dozens of rebels today and their leader was being weird,” said Nik, “Usually they yell or curse at us but she was so calm and she kept saying all these ominous things…”

“She’s either insane or there’s some sort of alliance between these anarchists’ groups and they’re planning coordinated attacks.” Damen added. He grimaced, “I don’t like either of these scenarios and I hate not knowing which one is true.”

The idea that a mad person was in charge of even the smallest team of rebels didn’t sit well with Damianos. If there was one mentally unstable leader, there could be more of them and that meant unpredictable attacks which often led to more casualties.

On the other hand, separate rebel squads teaming up was also bad news. A dozen or two could be difficult but was still manageable. But fifty or more meant the possibility of the civilians getting hurt during the fight.

Damen didn’t know which one out of these two he hated more to become true.

“What about you, dude? You seem stressed.” Nikandros noticed and as Damen looked closely at his captain, he could spot the odd tension in his face.

Auguste sighed. “It’s nothing. I just received a call that my uncle is coming to Marlas today and he wants to visit our HQ.”

“How many of your family members are moving in here?”

Auguste pushed Nik jokingly. “Uncle won’t be staying permanently. I was told he’s going to visit for a week at most and then he would leave.”

“Aren’t you happy you’re going to see your uncle? You always seemed to me like a family man,” Damen added, seeing Auguste’s questioning gaze, “You don’t like him?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him.” Auguste sighed exasperated. “I mean, he was never a very present person in my life and he was always rather odd, you know, like scientists tend to be. But I like him just fine.”

“What’s the problem then?”

Auguste pressed down on the base of his nose. For someone who claimed that he liked his uncle, he was not too convincing.

“Laurent always gets extremely tense whenever uncle is around,” he finally admitted, “and I hate to see my brother like this, not to mention he’s been stressed enough recently about these bloody tunnels…”

“Wait a minute, stop.” Nik cut in. “So you’re nervous because your younger brother hates your uncle who’s coming here today?” Auguste nodded. “How old is Laurent?”

“Twenty two.”

“So he’s a grown ass man, he can deal with his own shit.”

Damen couldn’t help but agree. But he also knew from all the stories Auguste has been telling them over the years how overprotective the older of the Revere brothers was. Auguste wouldn’t stop worrying no matter what.

Not keen to continue this particular conversation, he excused himself and headed to the training area.

On the way there, he walked to the warriors' main office where he quickly completed an interrogation report. He wasn't going to deal with it after training when he would be too tired to write logical sentences and think about more than dinner and a warm bed.

After sending the report to Makedon, he descended to the lower levels of the building. He walked to his locker where he kept his favourite gun, barely acknowledging men and women who tried to gain his attention. Damen wasn’t in the mood for a small talk and thankfully others picked up on his mood easily enough and left him to his own devices.

He shed his jacket, left it on the floor and went inside the training booth.

“Set level of difficulty: extra hard.” It didn’t matter that Damen had spent a lot of time shooting this day. He needed to stop thinking about the woman and her words. He desperately needed to clear his mind, and focus on the present and nothing else.

The warrior ducked, rolled, aimed and pulled the trigger. Several new targets appeared, each hologram carrying a digital version of a different weapon. 

Ducked. Rolled on the floor. Aimed. Pulled the trigger. Repeat. 

Again.

And again.

And again.

Damen felt the burning sensation in his muscles build up with every moment, every move, every leap he made to avoid being hit by the hologram bullet. The colored silhouettes gradually blurred in his eyes, forming shapeless spots against the darkened walls of the booth. Somewhere at the back of his head, Damen felt that maybe he should slow down, that it was enough for today. He ignored it. When the computer finished the training, he gave it a command to start another session.

The man was about to shoot down another target when the gun in his hand suddenly jerked violently.

“Training stop!” He called out. The holograms disappeared and walls went back to their see through state, allowing more light inside.

Damen cursed under his breath at the sight of a thin trickle of smoke rising from his gun. He went out of the booth, sat down on the floor and efficiently disassembled the weapon, hoping he would be able to fix it himself. 

Another curse fell on his lips.

It looked like he would have to pay a visit to the scientists' workshop.

Damen felt a growing irritation and had to take a few deep breaths to suppress it. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

The man stood up and took a step in the direction of the workshop when he realised his whole shirt was drenched with sweat. Well, that would explain the blurry vision from before, he thought as he pushed the sweaty locks of hair aside.

The gun would need to wait for after he took a shower.

Refreshed and dressed in clothes whose stench did not deter people to the other end of the corridor, Damen finally made his way to the workshop.

He hoped to find a familiar, friendly face there. He wasn't counting on Jokaste, the head scientist hardly ever spent time there, too busy living her best life and being the wonderful woman that she was. But there were other scientists he was familiar with that could be down there.

Damen was in the middle of making a mental list of every person he had a chance of stumbling across when he pushed the door to the workshop, only to be met with a complete silence.

He glanced around the room. It was empty.

Well.

Almost empty.

All the tables were vacant except for the one on the edge of the room, which was occupied by a familiar blonde head, unfortunately not the one Damen would very much like to see at the moment.

Laurent was sitting alone. Small lamps were lit around the table, one placed at each corner. The young scientist was bending over the pages of, as Damen could only guess standing so far away, the reports and other documents he was dealing with.

Damen froze for a few moments, hand still on the doorknob, contemplating turning around and leaving the workshop when the man lifted his head and looked him straight in the eye.

For a few long, excruciating seconds the two sized each other up, neither willing to be the one to break the silence.

At last, after heavens know how long, Damen took half a step back towards the exit.

“What are you doing here?” Laurent’s voice lacked the usual bite when he spoke and maybe it was just the day itself, maybe the exhaustion after the training, but it managed to throw the warrior mentally off balance.

“I, uhm,” he cleared his throat. It was the first time he found himself in the same room as Laurent with no other people accompanying either of them and for some reason all of his previous bravado disappeared in thin air, “I was hoping to find someone to take a look at my gun?” The man lifted said weapon, drawing the cold eyes away from his face. “But nobody’s here so I guess I’ll just go…”

“Well, I’m here, am I not?” The blond man said, stopping Damen mid step. “I can fix your gun if you want me to.”

“You seem busy,” he pointed at the documents on the table, “and I don’t want to disturb whatever you’re doing.”

Laurent sighed.

“Just give me the gun, Damianos.”

Damen sensed there was no point in arguing and did as he was asked. He sat on a chair opposite from Laurent, who gathered the files and pushed them to the side to make some space. The warrior's eyes moved involuntarily in their direction.

“Are these the runes from the tunnel we uncovered today?” The question popped out of Damen’s mouth. He wasn’t even aware of his own curiosity until he asked.

“Yes, some of them.” Laurent gestured towards the gun. “So, what’s wrong?”

“I was in the middle of the shooting practice when it began to smoke. I already checked the mechanics.”

The blond nodded thoughtfully. “Must be the runestone.”

“I figured.”

“May I?”

Damen passed the gun to him. The scientist started putting it apart, his movements precise and more efficient than what he would have expected of him. For some reason he had previously found the man too absorbed in his runes that he had not deemed such mundane activities as weapon handling worthy of him.

The team leader watched as Laurent put aside the removable parts of the gun and placed the rest before him. He examined the metal casing which contained the rune stone with a critical eye and muttered, "I'll need a screwdriver."

Laurent got up and went to the tool cabinet in search of the necessary tool.

"Why are you doing this?" The words escaped from Damen's lips without his will.

"What do you mean?" Laurent replied without turning from the drawer he was rummaging in.

"Virtually every conversation we had over the past three weeks has been an argument," he noted, "You have no reason to help me now. I didn't expect you to want to help me."

"I wouldn't send you away just because you stepped on my toes a few times." Laurent pulled out a screwdriver and turned to face Damen. “Besides,” he continued, “I needed a break from all of that.” He pointed to the pile of photos of tunnel walls and transcripts of runes. "Fixing your gun is a good enough excuse."

Laurent took his seat again across from Damen. The man watched as the scientist got to work. His slender fingers neatly wrapped around the handle of the tool as he unscrewed the tiny screws one by one. Soon, he put down the screwdriver and carefully lifted the lid, revealing a runestone.

The stone was small, not much larger than Damen's thumbnail. He leaned over the table to get a better look. He wasn't an expert, but he knew the color of the stone should be more pronounced. Instead, the bronze was dimmed, and this fact almost managed to hide that ...

“It's cracked.” Damen noted with obvious surprise in his voice. "Why is it cracked?"

"There are two possibilities. First, you used the stone for a long time and you kept pushing it to its limit like a real moron. The second option," Laurent continued, effectively shutting Damen's mouth, who was ready to respond to the insult, "is a botched job in preparing runes. "

"I always care about the condition of my weapons." The warrior hurried to inform the man, who looked first at him and then at the disassembled pistol with appraising eyes.

"Yes, I can see that." Laurent replied almost unknowingly and then more confidently asked, "How long have you been using this weapon?"

"Almost three years." he replied.

The scientist nodded. "That confirms my theory. This stone," he tapped it lightly with his finger, and Damen winced a little at the widening crack. "Is cheap. Too cheap for this model of the gun. If I had to guess, only your carefulness made it last that long."

His words caused Damen to laugh in surprise.

"You know, if I didn’t know any better, I'd take that as a compliment."

The cold eyes of the blond stared into his own, smothering the remnants of laughter in the bud.

"I have no problem recognizing someone's competence," he said as a matter of fact, "even yours. The condition of the gun shows that you care about it enough not to use it thoughtlessly. Which means you weren't the one who broke it."

Damen observed him for a few seconds, his curiosity piqued. This wasn’t the behaviour he was accustomed to. Instead the man was actually kind of… Bearable. Almost pleasant.

“So you can be nice, huh?” Laurent fixed him with a glare.

“Oh, I absolutely can be nice,” the blond’s voice once again turned into the cold tone Damen grew familiar with over the last three weeks, “I simply need to be given a reason to be nice.”

The silence fell between them as Laurent began to gently remove the runestone. The stone broke into several smaller pieces despite the man’s careful movements.

“I gave you the reason to be mean to me?”

“Bold of you to assume I would need one.” He bit back, but then added, “However, you did contribute to what approach I ultimately chose.” 

Damen frowned. "I helped you decide that you should be rude to me? Enlighten me because I don't remember what I could have possibly done."

"Well, blinding me with a flashlight in a dark corridor for starters ..."

“That…” The warrior faltered, “was not deliberate. I was just curious about my friend’s younger brother and didn’t consider the height difference…”

Laurent ignored him and carried on. “Then you almost caused me to break my ankle when I tripped on your legs in the corridor.”

Damen remembered that moment and how angry the blond looked. “I overworked myself while training and had to sit down or I would have fainted!”

It was Laurent’s turn to hesitate but he still replied with, “Excuses.”

The warrior clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to not say something he would instantly regret. The other man could be utterly frustrating and he had to remind himself of the slightly softer version of Laurent he witnessed earlier this evening. Now that he had seen it and knew it was there, he couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore. It wasn’t in his nature.

It didn’t stop him from being a little petty though.

“You want to talk about excuses? Fine. Let’s hear yours then.” He challenged Laurent. “Shortly after you arrived, you yelled at me for no reason at the elevators. Why?”

The blond man sighed and put down the remnants of the runestone, finally the whole thing removed from the gun. He faced Damen fully now, his icy blue eyes meeting his own brown ones, face unreadable.

“I had a terrible headache that morning,” he said, “and seeing you there reminded me of how you didn’t know the blueprints existed…”

“I did know about them and their purpose,” Damen stopped him and if the annoyed flicker on his face was any indication, the younger man did not like being interrupted. Too bad, “I just haven’t seen one before and was curious. I probably would’ve asked you if I could take a look, if you weren’t such a dick.”

Laurent pursed his lips. He went silent for a short while, his until then cold gaze turned into a calculating.

“I see.” Was his only response. “Anything else?”

“I didn’t appreciate how you seemed close to taking the reins during the mission.” Damen leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms on his chest. He was willing to let go of other things he mentioned before to Laurent but not this one. “We have a very distinct chain of command here at Marlas and scientists don’t lead the mission unless previously it was decided that they do. You’ve been here a while and I don’t believe for a second it was your first field mission today.”

“It actually was.” Laurent responded, his voice noticeably quieter, as if he didn’t want to be heard.

“Excuse me?”

The scientist shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “It was my first mission. Not in general, but here in Marlas. I didn’t even know I was going with you until a few minutes before. I figured I could do things the way I used to in Arles.” Laurent grimaced at his own words. “Apparently not.”

That made Damen reconsider. He did step out of line today but if he really wasn’t prepared enough and briefed on their rules, there was no point in holding it against him.

There was just one more thing Damen wanted to know.

“What about the day we met?” Laurent raised a single eyebrow at him in question, so he clarified, “Was it just the flashlight and the blueprints or did I do something else?”

Laurent shook his head, the blond strands caressing his sharp jaw. Damen couldn’t help but compare it to Auguste’s jaw, which was more square in shape while his younger brother’s was sharper but also more slender. Combined with slightly longer, chin lenght hair, the whole look was rather androgynous.

“That was all. I just,” the man cleared his throat and glanced down at the weapon, “I had a bad last day in Arles. Left me a bit touchy.”

“A bit?” Damen risked a joke. For a second he thought it would earn him a death glare and lack of a functional gun for at least until the next morning, but when Laurent raised a corner of his mouth a bit, Damen knew he was safe.

“I’m sorry about the flashlight,” he said, “and the other things. It wasn’t fair. I can see that now.”

“I guess we both miscalculated.” The blond raised from his chair and walked to a different cabinet than before. He reached for one of the drawers and suddenly his hand froze mid-motion. Glancing behind his shoulder at Damen, he asked, “Is this gun yours?”

“Yes? I brought it here.”

“No, I mean-- is it your property or do you just have a favourite in the Spectrum’s arsenale?”

“It’s mine. Why do you ask?”

Laurent reached inside the drawer and took a small object out. He then grabbed a few tools and went back to their table.

Damen watched as the scientist laid down the tools and a fresh stone before him. He almost gasped, seeing what kind of stone it was.

“Is this a ruby?” Laurent nodded.

“I think nobody in here would voice any objections over me upgrading your gun a bit, wouldn’t they?”

The blond grabbed one of the tools, a tiny laser blade and started carving the ruby so it would fit the gun. Damen didn’t even try to speak, not wanting to distract the man and being kind of fascinated by the way he worked. His movements were precise, lacked hesitation and were quicker than anyone he had seen before doing this. It was a beautiful thing to watch and Damen was impressed. The guy was obviously skilled.

When the stone was safely placed in it’s designated place, Laurent grabbed a carving quil. He glanced towards the broken runestone to check which rune was written on it but instead of copying it on the ruby, he frowned.

“Why the hell did you have a Patran rune for ‘shoot’ in your gun?”

Damen shrugged.

“Not only did they give you a weapon with a shitty stone, the rune was crappy too.” He groaned. “I’m writing you a different rune.”

“Which one?” The warrior asked, intrigued as to which rune Laurent deemed worthy the stone he chose for him.

“No offense to Patrans,” the blonde’s tone suggested full offense and for the first time since they met, the sound amused Damen instead of getting on his nerves, “but their battle runes are so weak they should abandon them all together. The Akielon ones are way better.” Laurent flickered his eyes towards Damen and sized him up. “They also seem fitting to me, as you’re from the Southern Artes, yes?”

An expensive stone, a more powerful rune… Damen had to resist the urge to smile when he realized what Laurent was doing. It was an apology.

Laurent tucked his hair behind his ear and leaned down again. The quil hovered just above the stone’s surface, not yet touching it. Laurent took a deep, measured breath, and as he slowly released the air from his lungs, the quil’s tip reached the stone. The ruby flashed crimson light, making Laurent look out of this world, like one of the kings from the legends who bathed in his enemy’s blood to remain youthful and beautiful.

After some time, the tool moved to the center of the glowing stone and Laurent started writing a rune. This time he took his time with every stroke. The rush meant a mistake and there was no room for mistakes while creating a runestone. One wrong move and the stone would be useless.

As the man straightened, the light streaming from the stone lost its intensity, but it was nothing like its previous state. The light was less intense, but still shone.

“You know what? It always amused me that although other fractions are fully capable of writing their own runes, we always have the scientists do it for us.”

Laurent pushed the new runestone away from himself and said, “Here. Charge it.”

Damen grabbed the ruby but still but he looked uncertainly at the other man. “Why? You could do it.”

“I only had to charge the stone. The rune itself would work just fine if I charged it too but the warrior’s magic will make it stronger than scientist’s. It’s one of yours, after all.” He explained. “You and the healers need us for activating the stones, that’s the one thing you cannot do. You would break them.”

Damen nodded, considering the new information. He knew the scientists were necessary in the process of creating runestones but he never delved into the topic. Laurent’s words made a lot of sense. Neither the warriors nor the healers possessed the skills to properly prepare the stone itself.

He put the stone on the table and read the rune. He recognized it immediately. It was the Akielon rune for “spear”. Laurent chose well. It was a strong symbol.

“I thought you could manage a spear.” The man mentioned, looking pointedly at his arms and the warrior smirked.

Damen touched the carved symbol. He felt nothing from it, not even an ounce of power. He took a deep breath and poured his own strength into the rune, feeding it, letting it heat up with the inner power he was born with.

When he withdrew his hand, both the stone and the rune glowed with a soft glow of the combined powers of Damen and Laurent.

The blond took the now charged and ready runestone, placed it back where it was supposed to be and began putting the gun back together.

“Thank you.” Damon said, receiving the fixed weapon from the scientist. “You’re actually kind of cool when you’re not trying to glare my head into falling off of my shoulders.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself when you don’t pretend to be a moron.” He smirked and Damen laughed, oddly satisfied when he saw mirth glistening in the other man’s eyes.

Maybe Auguste and Makedon were both right and he could become friends with Laurent.

Quick tap on his wristband and Damen groaned at the hour. He planned on being asleep by this time.

“Thanks for the help again. I need to go now, it’s getting late. Don’t stay up too long,” he gestured towards the abandoned stack of papers at the other end of the table, “If you’re that unpleasant while tired, I don’t want to stand in your way tomorrow when you're supposed to be in a bad mood anyway.”

“Why would I be in a bad mood?”

Damen hesitated at Laurent’s obvious confusion.

“Because your uncle is coming and you apparently hate him?”

Laurent’s hands froze over his documents.

“My uncle is coming?” Damen nodded slowly. “How do you know?”

“I ran into Auguste today and he was stressed as fuck about it… Is he really that bad?”

The blond opened his mouth but his response was cut short by a new voice.

“Is who bad?”

Damen turned around. 

The man who just walked in was older. He looked no less than forty. His light hair, not as light as Laurent’s, Damen noted, were combed back, emphasising an age-revealing but well taken care of face. There was a small, slightly amused smile on the man's lips, as if he had just witnessed children doing something silly. His pose was relaxed, but still rigid, most likely thanks to the rigorous Spectrum training. When he said hello to Laurent a moment later, his voice was warm and the man seemed pleased with meeting his nephew.

Even so, Damen suddenly felt uneasy in his company. Laurent's tension only increased that impression.

"Damianos Vallis," he introduced himself, "Nice to meet you, Professor Revere."

"Likewise." The professor smiled politely.

Casting one last glance at Laurent, who wished him a good night before focusing all his attention back on his uncle, he left the workshop and headed for his quarters.

As he went to bed that night, the last thing he thought about was Professor Revere's emotionless eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally talked!  
> But the uncle is here :<
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Stay safe and healthy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Here's the new chapter, hope you like it :)  
> Enjoy!

Laurent walked briskly toward the elevators, grateful for the late hour, when the corridors were actually empty and he didn't have to worry about a random person being scared by his murderous expression.

He hit the elevator button a couple of times, and if he used too much force to do so, well, there was no one to point it out to him.

Once inside, he chose the floor of the highest-ranking agents’ living quarters. Laurent closed his eyes and focused on the soft hum of the moving elevator, consciously forcing himself to breathe evenly and regularly. Inhale and exhale.

To say that he resented this reaction is definitely not enough. Laurent was more than that, more than sudden unexpected stress, more than feeling small and inadequate. He was angry with himself. He had spent the last few months confident that he had outgrown his childish complexes, that he would be able to meet his uncle's eyes as an equal at the next meeting. However, it seemed that one patronizing smile was enough to wipe out months of hard self-work. Fortunately, his hard-earned iron self-control allowed him to quickly control his posture, the strength of his voice and facial expression.

Laurent clenched his fists. He had never wanted to hit a wall as much as he did now.

He was sure in Damen's eyes he looked as confident as ever. He had some doubts about his uncle. The scientist tried to tell himself it didn’t matter what his uncle thought of him in the workshop, that he was allowed to do whatever the fuck he wanted and be proud of it and the only people whose opinion he should care about were his brother, mother and his best friend. Laurent knew all those things and he believed in them.

It didn’t change the fact that  _ not caring  _ about his uncle’s opinion on him had to be a conscious decision, one he momentarily forgot to make half an hour ago, which left him feeling like a ten years old anxious boy again.

There were many things Laurent Revere hated in himself and weakness was on top of the list.

Inhale and exhale. In and out.

The soft sound brought Laurent out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and walked decidedly out of the elevator, heading towards the familiar doors. He knocked his knuckles several times on the metal surface and moments later the door slid aside.

"Laurent! I wasn't expecting you at this time." Auguste stepped back and the younger brother walked inside. "Aren’t you going to bed? It's getting late."

"Why didn't you tell me uncle Reginald was coming to Marlas?"

Auguste ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking terribly tired. " I only found out a couple of hours ago. I wanted to let you know, Laurie, I really did, I even went to your office, but you weren't there and no one could tell me where you went."

Laurent rolled his eyes.

"Well, at least your friend was kind enough to tell me. Admittedly, a minute later our uncle walked into the workshop, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless." He walked deeper into the room.

His brother’s quarters were bigger than his own, the privilege of the warriors’ captain. There was a big desk, much wider than his own, a large window overlooking the city skyline, several more bookcases than in his room (the only thing he envied his brother) which stored only a few books and served the purpose of a weapon storage instead. At the center of the room there was a double bed and Laurent sat on it, immediately recognizing their mother’s hand in choosing the sheets. They were way nicer than what Auguste would have picked for himself.

“Which of my friends told you?” Laurent raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“Oh, so you told more than one of your fellow warriors but couldn’t bother to tell me?”

“I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

“I have a working hand-band,” Laurent’s voice was flat as he lifted his wrist which held a see through band, “as do you. So cut the crap, Auguste, you could have sent me a text.”

The older brother’s shoulders sagged and he sat heavily next to Laurent.

“You’re right, I’m so sorry…” He placed a hesitant hand on the scientist’s shoulder and Laurent sighed, resigned. He was unable to stay mad at his brother, even when he really wanted to.

“Do you know how long he’s going to be here?”

Auguste relaxed, sensing he wasn’t going to be yelled at by his little brother anymore.

“Just a week tops, no longer.” Laurent nodded. He could endure his uncle’s presence for a few days.

“So who told you? You never said.”

“Damianos.”

The warrior breathed a surprised laugh. “Since when do you talk to Damen? I thought you hated each other.”

Laurent lay down on the bed and stared at the hideous crystal chandelier, which was the only thing Auguste had brought from Arles. He couldn’t understand why his brother, of all the things he might have taken from their family home a few years earlier, this nasty stuff was the one he had chosen. Seriously…

“He brought a broken gun to the workshop,” he mentioned offhandedly, “I fixed it and he told me on his way out.”

“You fixed Damen’s gun.” The disbelief in Auguste’s voice was apparent.

“I was the only one down there and it would be unnecessarily mean to send Damen back empty handed.”

“So he’s ‘Damen’ now, huh?”

Laurent sat up and shot his brother a disapproving look. He didn’t appreciate the teasing tone in his voice.

“I just made him a new runestone. Stop seeing things which aren’t there.”

Auguste simply smiled and drew Laurent into a hug.

“I’m just happy you’re finally making friends. I was worried you’d become a hermit.”

Laurent smacked his brother’s arm. “Shut up, I have friends.”

“I meant new friends,” he said, “I think you’re getting there with Nicaise, which is frankly speaking terrifying…”

The younger brother laughed and he leaned back so he could see Auguste’s face.

“We got to keep everyone on their toes somehow.” Auguste rolled his eyes. “By the way, speaking of friends-- guess who just moved to Marlas?”

“Who?”

“Aimeric.”

“Seriously?” Laurent nodded and his brother hummed thoughtfully, “I didn’t expect that. You told me once Aimeric seemed quite comfortable in Fortaine.”

Laurent shrugged and replied, “He had similar reasons as I did,” seeing his brother’s questioning gaze, he clarified, “Getting away from daddy dearest.”

Auguste pursed his lips and Laurent had to bite down a potentially hurtful comment. He hated the look in his brother’s eyes. It always made him feel like an anxious child in the company of an adult who tries to explain to him that his problems are present only in his head.

Laurent knew he did not make this particular issue up.

“Laurie,” Auguste began, his voice turned annoyingly patronizing. “Dad loves you, he really does.”

“He has a funny way of showing it then,” Laurent sneered and stood up, walking away from his brother, “because I certainly didn’t feel his love when he informed me to better bust my ass and achieve some specific scientific achievements before our next social gathering, otherwise I might not get an invitation.”

He knew Auguste wanted to say something to convince Laurent he misunderstood their father. But the younger Revere could tell the exact moment when Auguste realized the next social gathering would be the annual holiday party, and that was the reason the warrior in the end closed his mouth, expression defeated.

It was an uncomfortable situation for Auguste. The man loved his little brother to death but he also had an amazing relationship with their dad. Witnessing the constant conflict between his two favourite people in the whole world couldn’t be easy.

“I’m going to bed,” Laurent smiled at his brother as he opened the door, “Good night.”

He tried not to think of his brother’s pained expression as he made his way to his own quarters.

A snap of his fingers lit the lamps around the room. Laurent sighed heavily and dragged his feet as he made his way to the adjacent bathroom. The space wasn’t big, it was a bathroom for a single person after all, but thanks to a wide mirror and white painted walls, it didn’t feel confined.

Clothes dumped on the floor (quite unusual for him, as he always made time to fold and put them on the side), Laurent stepped under the shower.

The water was pleasantly warm and he felt his shoulders relax a bit. Not much. Laurent couldn’t recall the last time he felt fully relaxed. There was always some amount of tension present both in the man’s body and mind and Laurent preferred it this way. It helped him stay alert, always ready to focus and go into the scientist’s headspace. There was no way to tell when he would be needed and for that he had to keep a clear head, so he would stay useful. Worth keeping around. Not a nuisance.

Unwanted images flashed before his eyes and he opened them with a shuddering breath. The blond couldn’t care less for water flowing down his face; his eyes remained wide open, taking comfort in the bathroom’s bright light until the heart stopped hammering in his chest and every breath didn’t feel as if it could be the last one.

After an indefinite amount of time, Laurent finally got dressed in his pajamas, left the bathroom and slid under the comforter. A few short commands adjusted the lamps to dim the light a little so it wouldn’t make it hard to fall asleep. They would go out on their own around dawn.

As much as Laurent could secretly wish for it, there were no lamps to protect him from the shadows in his sleep.

***

“Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Laurent resisted the urge to groan out loud. He understood his uncle’s reasoning for going down to Marlas, the runes were more than interesting to any scientist, and above all one of higher stance, like Reginald. Even after a few weeks, Laurent still couldn’t fully comprehend why Makedon hadn’t made a call to The International Scientists’ Association and asked for a professor to run the excavation, and had settled for Laurent instead. The blond ultimately decided he had Auguste to thank for getting him the job. He would be forever grateful to his brother for giving him a way out of Arles, for it allowed him to leave all of the bad memories and demons up in the north.

Unfortunately, Laurent’s luck lasted for less than a month and now he had one of said demons seated beside him in the office.

“I’m sure you understood everything the first time, uncle,” Laurent forced his voice to sound light and pleasant. 

“Now, my dearest nephew, no need to be so sarcastic,” apparently he failed at sounding light and pleasant, “Indulge me so I can be sure both of us are on the same page and there will be no mistakes made. From the beginning, if you’d be so kind.”

Maybe his brother and mother were right and calling uncle a demon was too much, but the older scientist was still unpleasant to sit with. To other people the man was absolutely fine - as far as Laurent knew, those who met his uncle mostly viewed him as a polite, middle aged man, maybe a little standoffish at times, but this trait of his was constantly overlooked thanks to his position and reputation as one of the most renewed scientists internationally.

All of these people only saw a clean uniform, trimmed hair and beard, and this polite, a bit patronising smile. They heard smart words, complicated descriptions of whatever research he was working on at the moment, said with a smooth, charismatic voice and thought nothing of it.

Noone ever noticed how the smile never reached the professor’s eyes.

Noone paid enough attention to understand the hidden meaning behind his sweet, silky words.

Noone knew how poisonous this man could be.

Or maybe - just maybe - his brother and father were right and all of these things didn’t actually exist? Maybe Laurent made them up, for reasons they couldn’t understand and he stopped trying to explain a long time ago. Maybe his mother wasn’t entirely wrong when she said sometimes certain behaviour could be understood in a different way than it should be.

Maybe the only people vulnerable to Reginald Revere’s poison were ten year old, overly excited, curious and weak children?

Laurent would never know and, frankly, he wasn’t sure if there was a point in knowing more than a decade after the fact. 

"There is a system of tunnels underneath the city, and our sonars made it possible for us to determine that they are spherical, making it even more difficult to access the empty space in the center. The corridors form a maze of sorts, so it was definitely not a public place. My best guess would be perhaps a ceremonial chamber, a tomb, or some other place of importance to the ancients. " Laurent said, clicking on the illuminated keyboard on the table and projecting a holographic map of tunnels above the counter. Laurent turned the map around and marked with flashing dots a few places, "So far we have opened entrances to four tunnels in different parts of the city, the last one is half an hour from the HQ to the east."

The uncle’s calculating eyes studied the map for a long while. Laurent knew better than to speak. His uncle didn’t handle being interrupted well and Laurent wasn’t reckless enough to consciously make this day even worse.

He watched the older man move the holographic map around, studying the maze’s arrangement. The uncle methodically enlarged the image, checking where a particular tunnel he was examining at the moment led, and when reached the dead end - as Laurent knew he would most of the time, he’s done the same thing many times before - the professor moved on without looking back. The younger man knew, however, that everything had been properly catalogued in Reginald’s mind. Nothing ever disappeared from his uncle’s memory. It was quite unsettling at times.

After a few minutes of silence, the professor turned off the holograph.

“The runes are Ancient Artesian,” the uncle reached for the binder containing the summary of the progress Laurent has managed to make until this moment, “Most likely from the early years of the period, judging by the way they had been carved and aged with time.”

“Yes.”

“Have you identified and catalogued repetitive symbols and phrases?”

“I have. I’ve made a separate section dedicated to sentences too, as I spotted a few by now.”

The man lifted his eyes from the paged he’s been turning one by one and raised an eyebrow at his nephew. “Only a few? These are rather large tunnels, young man. You should have taken notice of more than ‘a few’ after several weeks of work. That is, if working was what you were doing.”

Laurent gritted his teeth and watched as his uncle nonchalantly flipped through documents which caused him several sleepless nights and countless migraines throughout the last three weeks. Seeing the older man grimace at something he just read, the next words bursted out of his mouth on their own.

“There’s only so much I can do on my own,” he snapped, his blood boiling at the indifference on his uncle’s face, “and I can’t ask anyone to help me with it.”

“You don’t need any help, Laurent, you just need to dedicate yourself to the job and stay focused,” Reginald replied, fixing Laurent with a stern look, “Although you’ve always been rather chaotic,” he sighed, “I had hoped you’d grow out of that superficiality of yours. Your short attention span and impatience makes you sloppy. This,” the binder was thrown carelessly on the table, “is the testament that nothing has changed. I should have known better to expect more.”

Anger and shame went through Laurent’s body, making him feel hot and cold at the same time. He knew his cheeks reddened without looking in the mirror. His heart hammered in his chest and it took an enormous amount of strength to stop himself from balling his fists. 

Before he could even think of a response, his uncle straightened his uniform and took a few steps towards the exit.

“I’ll go see the tunnels myself,” said Reginald, gathering his things from where he left them on Laurent’s desk earlier this morning, “And verify the information you’ve gathered.”

“Go ahead.” If his uncle noticed the resentment in his voice, he didn’t comment on it.

When the door closed behind the older man, Laurent leaned heavily against the table and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at the digital clock on the wall and groaned. It was barely midday and he was already so fucking exhausted. Three hours of discussing the ancient runes with his uncle - or rather Reginald undermining almost every single thing Laurent managed to accomplish so far - weared him almost as much as a whole day spent at the excavation.

He allowed himself to close his eyes for a second. There was nobody else in the office with him. Jokaste went somewhere early in the morning and Nicaise was out in the field, for the first time since Laurent moved to Marlas. Surprisingly enough, the younger scientist didn’t complain much about being assigned to join the team and Laurent suspected Nicaise simply enjoyed shooting people, even if only to stun them.

As for their boss, he had no idea what she was doing at the moment. Jokaste has never informed either of them about her research and Laurent didn’t ask.

Having fought off the looming headache, he grabbed the binder and read the page his uncle left it open on. His brow jerked in annoyance. If the professor found a mistake, the least he could do was point it out to him.

Nicaise came in the very moment Laurent threw the binder back on the table.

“Good idea, break the table and we can get an upgrade.”

“I’m not in the mood, Nicaise.”

Nicaise walked up to him and threw himself on the chair beside Laurent with an exasperated sigh. “Bitch, so am I. I won’t be working for at least an hour, I’m fucking done.”

That made Laurent look at him curiously. He sized the man next to him up and down and couldn’t help but notice he, too, was exhausted. Contrary to Laurent himself though, Nicaise had a good reason to be tired.

“Did something happen on the mission?”

“A lot of rebels,” he grimaced, “and the fuckers were crafty, hiding in places I had no idea were even accessible. I had to do some acrobatics with the drone to take them down while helping these brainless walls of muscles called warriors.” Nicaise opened one eye and fixed it on Laurent while he was busy processing what he just heard, “What’s your excuse to look like a piece of shit? I mean, worse than usual, you always look bad.”

Laurent shrugged dismissively. Nicaise wasn’t Aimeric to talk family issues with him. The younger scientist probably couldn’t give less fucks about Laurent’s problems.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” He kicked the blond’s foot, hard, “I’ve seen a crusty old man in the corridor outside. He looked disgusting.”

“That was my uncle.”

“Geez, man, my condolences.”

That startled a laugh out of Laurent and Nicaise grinned. There was some sort of an understanding in his eyes and Laurent thought maybe with time, Nicaise could become a good friend to him, just like Aimeric had.

“I need a break,” Laurent pushed off the table and walked to the door, “I’ll be back later. Call if I’m needed.”

“As if I care.”

He smiled to himself at the snarky comment. Yes, Nicaise was fun to be around.

***

Laurent wandered around the HQ for a while, not having any specific place in mind he wanted to go to. From time to time a guilt tripping thought that he should be working on the tunnels’ runes came out to the surface of his mind, like an annoying mosquito buzzing obstinately to his ear, but he shoved it out and made himself pay it no mind every time. He wouldn’t listen to his uncle. Laurent knew he has been busting his ass off for three weeks straight without a moment to breathe and that his work wasn’t for naught. 

He deserved to roam around the building and rest. 

Just when he was about to turn around and make his way back up to the main scientists’ office, Laurent heard a voice calling from somewhere behind him, “Hey, wait!”

As there was no one else in the corridor, proved by a brief look around, Laurent turned around just in time to see a familiar figure closing the distance.

24 hours earlier simply seeing the man in the same room made Laurent’s blood boil, but now it wasn’t an unpleasant sight. Funny how quickly some things may change.

Damen stopped in front of him and smiled. Another first for them. 

“Hi! What are you doing? I’ve never seen you around here at this hour.”

Laurent shrugged, “Just needed to stretch my legs a bit. What about you? Don’t you have some job to do?” he looked pointedly at the man’s prominent biceps and grinned, “Like muscle building?”

The warrior snorted, “That’s not the only thing we do and you know that.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Muscle.”

Laurent turned around and started walking towards the elevators. His immaculate self-control camouflaged the surprise he felt when Damianos caught up with him instead of going… wherever that was he was supposed to go.

“Are you going to go watch the final exam?” The man asked and Laurent turned to look at him, confused.

“They’re holding the finals here?” Damen nodded.

Laurent hummed thoughtfully. The last final exam he had seen was his own at the end of his education at The Academy, three years ago. It would be nice to go for a short while and take a look.

“Alright. Lead the way.”

Only when they went into the elevator and the doors slid shut behind them, Laurent felt how out of place this situation was. There was silence between the two of them but the nice kind of silence, untroubled even. 

At once Laurent felt uncomfortable with the fact that he was comfortable.

All of the sudden Damen laughed and Laurent hated himself for jumping slightly at the sound. “You know, the last time we stood together by the elevators, you verbally attacked me.”

“I’ll verbally eviscerate you this time, if you don’t stop mentioning it,” he narrowed his eyes at the taller man, “Would you drop it already?”

Damen didn't answer, just raised his hands defensively, an amused smile dancing across his lips. Laurent wasn't sure if he was pleased to see the said smile, or if he preferred to wipe it off the man's face. Probably the latter. The guy was laughing at him. He didn't like it.

And to think that in the last twelve hours Laurent was starting to like him.

They spent the rest of the way in complete silence, which from time to time was disturbed by a tiny chuckle coming from Damianos’ direction. It took every ounce of Laurent’s self-control not to get annoyed by it. He needed to consciously remind himself he had already misjudged the other man and taking back the gesture of goodwill from the day before by starting a fight right now over literally nothing would be counterproductive.

Besides, the other man wasn’t that bad, but Laurent would rather throw himself in the reactor than admit it out loud.

At last they made it to a big double door. Damen pushed it open and the two walked inside.

Laurent hasn’t visited the sports hall at the HQ in Marlas yet. There was no need for him to come here. He knew where the gym was, if he found himself in need of a workout session, and for the majority of the time he was too occupied by the excavation to take advantage of all the perks that came with being a Spectrum agent. Now that he came here, he could take a look around.

The hall was big enough to allow the agents to play a football match and leave enough room for the spectators. Laurent had no idea how the place looked like on every other day, but right now there was no sports equipment in sight.

Instead, there were about a hundred Academy students gathered in the sports hall. The kids were divided according to their section, and then into smaller groups within said sections, each dealing with the assigned task under watchful eyes of their examiners.

Damen nudged him and gestured towards the stairs. They went down together and stood by the wall, watching the students from the sidelines.

“Damen!”

A tall, muscled man walked up to them, the grin on his face slightly mischievous as he threw a small, round object in Damen’s direction. Laurent ducked instinctively but he didn’t have to worry; Damen caught the object and threw it back in one swift motion.

“Try again next time,” the warrior laughed at him, goodheartedly, “one day maybe you’ll catch me off guard.”

“Good to see you, kiddo,” the man drew Damen into a back slapping hug, which Damen returned with enthusiasm.

“Good to see you too, Kastor.”

“And who’s your friend?” Kastor asked, raising an eyebrow at Laurent who stood silently a few steps behind them. 

“Ah, sorry,” Damen rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Kastor, this is Laurent Revere. He’s our new scientist, he just transferred here from Arles HQ to work on the tunnels under the city. Laurent, this is Kastor, my older brother.”

Now that he mentioned it, Laurent could see the obvious similarities between the two men. Both of them were rather large in built, muscled (Kastor clearly was a warrior, just like his younger brother) and clearly Southern Artesian. They also had the same nose. Though the longer Laurent looked, the more differences he noticed - Kastor’s facial features were decidedly sharper while Damen’s had a certain softness to them; Damianos’ eyes were also warmer, though Kastor’s weren’t exactly cold or unpleasant, just more cautious.

“Revere? As in…” Damen nodded.

“Yes, he’s Auguste’s little brother.”

“I don’t know Auguste as well as my brother does but every time we’d met, he always mentioned you,” Kastor said and an amused smirk appeared on his face. He held out his hand to him, “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Likewise,” Laurent shook his hand. The man had a strong handshake, but so had Laurent, which, judging by the look on his face, Kastor wasn’t expecting, “Although I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you.”

“I never got a chance to mention my family,” Damen jumped in, “What are you doing in Marlas, Kastor? Last we spoke you were still rather fond of Ios and didn’t even want to leave for vacation.”

The older Vallis laughed and turned to his brother, who seemed to beam at the attention. Seeking older brother’s approval was something Laurent could understand on a personal level.

“Dad sent me here to overlook the exam and collect some kids,” he gestured broadly to the multitude of struggling Academy students, “Quite a number of them applied for the job at Ios HQ and the boss wants to know who are we potentially hiring. I should probably go back”

“Yeah, of course, go do your thing” Damen’s smile was so wide it brought out a dimple on his cheek, “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure, little bro,” Kastor ruffled his hair and nodded briefly at Laurent, “Again, nice to meet you.”

The two watched as the man walked back to wherever he was supposed to be. They stood in silence for a few moments and then Damen turned to Laurent, the delighted glint from meeting with his brother still present in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something when another voice, this time more familiar to Laurent, spoke from behind them.

“I think I’m dehydrated because I’m seeing things.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Nikandros.”

Contrary to his initial reaction to Damen’s irritated expression, which was vexation, Nikandros’ scowl only amused Laurent. There was something utterly funny in the way the man’s face twisted and turned, as if he couldn’t decide if the sight before him (aka Laurent) disgusted him, angered or made him feel nauseous.

The other warrior furrowed his eyebrows and glared at his friend. “Are you friends with him now or what?”

“Well, kind of,” Damen replied at the same time with Laurent’s, “We’re not friends.”

It was Damen’s turn to look at the blond with confusion written on his face.

“What do you mean we’re not friends?”

“We barely decided we don’t hate each other anymore,” he deadpanned, “Yesterday. You can’t seriously call this a ‘friendship’.”

“Unfortunately, he can,” Nikandros grumbled and Damen nodded in assent, “I absolutely can.”

The scientist gaped at him. This guy couldn’t mean it. That was too simple, too black or white type of thing, too…

Laurent was unable to comprehend it.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he took a few steps back and towards the students. “I’ll walk around and intimidate the kids. Have a nice day.”

Then he turned around and hastily walked away, not waiting to hear whatever heated response Nikandros had for Damianos. He didn’t care. 

He glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Nikandros throw hands in the air and Damen visibly done with whatever he was subjected to.

He didn’t care at all.

They weren’t  _ friends. _

Laurent distracted himself with observing the final exam taking place all around him. Students apparently thought he was another examiner. Whenever he looked at someone to see what they were doing, they straightened their backs and doubled their efforts. Laurent wasn’t going to make them aware of who he really was. They could use some additional motivation.

The first group he went to observe was the Scientists’ Section, obviously. He immediately recognized the task. It was the same one he had to complete at his own exams. Each group of up and coming scientists got a tower like construction. The tower was basically one big machine, divided into several parts, each consisting of a number of runestones. The higher the runes were, the higher their level of advancement was. The task was to turn on as many levels of the machine as possible. Seemed simple enough, except it wasn’t.

Then he stood beside the Warriors’ Section, making sure to keep his distance so he wouldn’t get struck with a bullet or a laser. According to what Auguste had told him years ago, the challenge here was similar to the scientists’ one, but with weapons instead of the tech tower.

Laurent had no idea what the hell was going on in the Medics’ Section and he made a mental note to ask Aimeric what was inside these gigantic fish tanks. 

The blond man vividly remembered his own exam three years ago. The headmaster at The Academy in Arles reminded them to do their best at their tasks, for their individual score would be reflected in their final classification as runes users. There were three classes: C - the least advanced, reserved for the lowest-level employees who were higher in the hierarchy only than people who never attended the Academy; B - the most numerous, the so-called middle-class; and A - they were researchers, professors, inventors, and top level Spectrum agents, like Laurent himself. 

Seeing as the exam was slowly coming to an end, Laurent made his way back to the stairs. Damianos and Nikandros, unfortunately for him, still stood there and the latter glared daggers at him. The scientist was about to make a proper response to the man, when the lights around started flickering furiously. The ground shook a split second later, throwing Laurent off balance and onto the stairs. He gripped the railing tightly to save himself from falling, sharp edges digging painfully into his hands.

As soon as it started, so quickly went. Some of the lights have returned to their previous state. Laurent carefully loosened his grip, ignoring the numb pain spreading all over his palms and stood straight.

People around were getting off the floor, exchanging frantic questions. The scientist noticed several students rushing towards their task, which was interrupted by a strange phenomenon, probably wanting to see if their progress had been saved, or whether they would have to start over.

"What the hell just happened?"

It was a moment before Laurent realized that Nikandros’ question was directed to him. The man looked as if Laurent had caused the strange earthquake and electrical failure.

"I have no idea," he admitted, and then taking a final glance at the students, announced, "I'll go check to see if anything's wrong in the reactor."

"We'll help here and contact Makedon," Damen said, "Send me a message if you find out anything."

Laurent just nodded and started up the stairs to the exit.

If it was the reactor's fault, whatever had just happened, half of Marlas might have been in trouble, he thought. Only the release of a large amount of energy could cause an electrical failure and an earthquake.

He stopped himself in front of the elevators and ultimately chose the emergency escape stairs. Using the elevator after a power outage, even as short as it was, was a death wish.

Laurent made his way down, taking two steps at the same time. When he finally reached the bottom floor, he was out of breath. It was only because he stopped for a second to rest and clear his head, he was able to hear it.

Someone was arguing in the corridor to his right. Curiosity won and Laurent peaked around the corner.

Jokaste stood there, her back pressed flat against the wall. The man in front of her, whom Laurent recognized to be Damen’s older brother, Kastor, was leaning over her, one hand resting on the wall beside her head. Revere watched as Kastor used his other hand to cup the woman's chin and tilt her face up so he could kiss her on the mouth.

Laurent took a step forward in their direction. He knew Jokaste wasn’t your usual damsel in distress but he still should offer his help, in case she needed it.

But then she raised her arms and draped them around Kastor's neck, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss.

_ Alright, _ Laurent thought to himself,  _ you do you, Jokaste. _

He thought nothing of it and made his way to the reactor. There were more important things than his boss’s love life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay safe!


	6. Chapter 6

His muscles flexed to absorb the force of the impact. He adjusted the grip on the other man's shoulders. His foot shifted slightly, allowing him to push against his opponent and take him back a step. Damen smiled, but that smile was quickly replaced by a grimace as Kastor pressed with renewed force and forced him to rethink his tactics.

Damen loved training with his older brother. They rarely got the opportunity to wrestle together, especially after he got transferred to Marlas a few years ago. And while Nikandros remained Damen’s number one training partner, they knew each other well enough to be prepared for whatever the other man did on the mat, even if they still challenged one another with different combinations of their wrestling moves. Kastor and him trained together maybe four times a year and sometimes he simply forgot what his brother was capable of.

And Kastor Vallis basked in the opportunity to remind him how good he was.

A trickle of sweat ran down his temples, marking the tense muscles of his face, then further down his neck, finally disappearing into his T-shirt, which was already drenched with sweat.

The brothers stayed like that for a few long excruciating seconds, almost motionless, with the exception of adjusting their grips on the other one.

Finally, Damen saw an opening and took it, tackling his brother to the mat and pinning him down.

Kastor struggled for a bit, doing his best to break free but ultimately he relaxed and laughed breathily.

“You don’t stop training, do you?” Kastor threw his head back and took a deep breath; his hair was flat against his face, just as wet as Damen’s.

“Never,” he released him and also laid down, breathing hard, “You know it’s not an option in this line of work to slack off.”

“Yeah, I know, but you gotta rest from time to time too, kiddo,” Kastor poked him in between ribs.

The two warriors lay together for some time in silence, waiting for their heartbeats to slow down and lungs to stop hurting with every inhale. They both knew the sting in their muscles wouldn’t go away for at least until the next day. No sooner, not after nearly three hours of almost constant sparring.

Eventually they made their way to the showers. When they both turned on the water, Damen spoke again, “You’re much better than the last time we spared.”

“I can hear that but not as good as me in your voice, you little shit,” his brother snorted goodheartedly.

“You said that, not me,” he joked.

Damen squeezed a generous amount of the shower gel on his hand and distributed it all over his body, hair leaving for last. This gel could be used also as a shampoo. Damen was nothing if not efficient.

“I would have beat you but I had a reason to take numerous breaks from training.”

Damen smirked, “Does this reason make you train something else?”

He heard his brother bark a laugh, “Not as often as I would like to,” then, he asked, “What about you? Are you dating that cutie?”

“Which cutie?”

“You know which one. The pretty blond scientist is exactly your type.”

Damen hummed thoughtfully, his thoughts immediately drifting towards Jokaste.

“Kind of. We’ve only been to several dates but it looks promising.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Kastor promised.

“And I for you too, so you can practice more with your own cutie.”

They both fell silent and focused on washing off the remnants of their excessive training from their bodies. Damen’s heart was light. He loved talking with his brother about their lives and what they’ve been otherwise missing because of the distance between them.

He thought of introducing Kastor and Jokaste sometime. Damen would love it if they got along.

***

After he went out of the shower and dressed in a fresh uniform, Damen made his way to the head warriors’ office. This was everyone’s least favourite part of their job, at least every warrior Damen has ever met in his entire life hated the paperwork. To be fair, they didn’t spend much time there, the nature of the occupation required their presence elsewhere, for example, in the gym, in interrogation rooms or in field missions. Damen would go to the office every other day for two, three hours tops, unless there was a situation that required more documentation to complete.

Therefore, the warriors’ office was simply only a room with several desks and chairs, as well as the printer that hasn’t been used in a few years. Why print documents when you had computers and tablets and holograms available?

Only scientists printed things out. Odd people.

The door slid aside and Damen entered the office, immediately spotting two familiar faces.

“So you’re on a detention with us today, huh?” Nikandros joked as Damen sat down at the desk next to him.

“It does feel like detention, doesn’t it?”

“You’re both overreacting,” said Auguste, handing him a cup of coffee, which Damen accepted with a short ‘thank you’, “It’s as necessary part of our job as running around and punching criminals.”

“I’d rather run around the whole city punching criminals than sit here for hours, typing on the computer how much force did I put into every punch.”

Damen sipped his coffee and pressed the button, turning on his own computer. Personally he agreed with Nikandros. Staying active has always been his preference to stagnation. However, he also understood Auguste. Paperwork, no matter how dull, was important.

“You say that now, but I once had a friend at Arles HQ who broke a guy’s nose - in self-defence, mind you - and he hated writing reports so much he didn’t, and a week later he was summoned to court and charged with bodily injury and assault.”

Nikandros gaped at the blond warrior, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Didn’t you just say it was a self-defence?” Damen asked and his friend grimaced.

“Yeah, but it was technically after we ended the mission, so the guy wasn’t wearing his helmet, there were no cameras around, the rest of us were busy and the kid with a broken nose turned out to be a troublesome son of some politician,” Auguste bumped a fist against Nik’s shoulder and laughed, “So you better write your report in time, Nik, otherwise someone can sue you and claim you’re lying.”

The three men went back to their respective tasks, Nikandros typing slightly faster than usual. 

Damen felt himself relax. Although he wasn’t fond of desk duty, he appreciated the piece and quiet their office provided. Rarely someone came to them, so this little room was a refuge of sorts. Occasionally, when an extremely bad and tiring day happened, Damen would use his paperwork as an excuse to avoid people and come to the office, lie down on his desk and calm his mind. It didn't happen often, Damen was definitely a social creature, he loved being around people and any negative emotions found their way out in the gym, but even he needed a moment of silence from time to time. 

Sometime around page three of his report, Auguste turned away from the screen and asked, “Are you boys down for dinner later?”

“I can’t,” Damen leaned back in his chair and rolled his head a bit, neck stiff from the lack of movement, “I already promised Kastor.”

“He hasn’t left yet?” The captain’s eyebrows shot upwards, “I thought he was here only for the finals.”

“They had to repeat the whole thing after that earthquake or whatever that was,” he explained, “and after that weird energy wave, the results were corrupted or entirely wiped out.”

“Poor kids.”

“Yeah.”

Damen remembered seeing several boys and girls bawling their eyes out in the corners of the sports hall. They didn’t deserve their hard work to be for naught.

“Does your brother know what happened with the reactor already?” Nik turned to Auguste, “I remember him heading there right after…”

“He doesn’t,” Damen replied, downing the rest of the already cold coffee. It turned disgusting but it was still a coffee and he wasn’t that picky.

“How the hell would you know that?” 

He shrugged, “Laurent told me.”

“Yeah, I forgot you two talk now.”

Nikandros threw his head back and groaned, “I thought that was a one time thing. I hoped it was a one time thing.”

Damen only shook his head and smiled at his best friend. Nikandros was sometimes so funny to rile up and it didn’t take long for him to get Nik to that headspace. Most of the time, Damen just needed to be himself, that was enough most of the time.

“We hang out sometimes. Or,” he corrected himself and snorted, “I corner him and sit there until he acknowledges me being there. He hasn’t shot me yet so it’s going rather well.”

Auguste nodded thoughtfully, “Laurent’s like a fox, if you want to befriend him, you need to kind of tame him first, so he doesn’t bite.”

The thought of ‘taming’ Laurent didn’t sit well with Damen. The younger Revere clearly was a cautious person and one had to earn his trust, that much he was able to learn in the last few days. ‘Taming’ seemed a bit much but he kept his mouth close and went back to his report, trying to tune out Nikandros going on a rant on how bad of an idea it was for Damen to make friends with Laurent and that Auguste should stop it before Damen starts to think with his dick.

Before either of them could inform Nik that Damen sleeping with Laurent was not an option, they were interrupted.

The door opened and a man came inside. He was quite tall and slim, but not yet thin. Judging by the way his uniform draped over his body, the man made regular visits to the gym. Quite unexpected given his white scientist coat, but not unheard of.

The man walked over to them and smiled. Damen was pleased to note that, unlike another bearded man with a very similar beard, the smile reached the scientist's eyes.

He was about to ask the unfamiliar man if he got lost when Laurent walked in, his usual mask of indifference present on his face.

"Is Makedon in his office?" Laurent asked his brother, who nodded in confirmation. He turned to the other man and said, “Go straight ahead and turn left. Big glass door. You won’t miss it.”

The man looked down at Laurent - he was slightly taller than the blond but still shorter than Damen or Auguste - and smiled. It wasn’t the same smile as the one directed towards Damen and the other two warriors, he noticed. This smile, combined with the way his eyes studied Laurent’s face, as if trying to burn it’s image into his memory, came off as flirtatious.

Damen fought off a grimace. If he realized how the unnamed guy looked at Laurent, the scientist himself must have noticed it way before him and he didn’t seem like he liked this kind of attention.

Well, his facial expression showed no emotion, but watching him closely, the warrior could see a clenched jaw, slightly tighter than usual.

Maybe Laurent preferred women's charms? Damen hadn't paid much attention to his new friend's preferences before, but now that he was starting to think about it, he couldn't help but be curious.

“You’re not going to join me?” The man’s deep voice apparently had no effect on Laurent, who only shook his head.

“I have work to do,” he said, deadpan, “I won’t be here for at least a few hours. I’m sure you can talk to Makedon without me holding your hand, Torveld.”

By the way Torveld’s eyes flickered down several times during this whole conversation, he suspected he would be happy to do more than hold Laurent’s hand.

“If you want to talk to Makedon, I suggest you hurry,” Damen cut in, drawing every pair of eyes in the room to himself, “he has a habit of wandering around the building. You might have an issue finding him later.”

Torveld looked back and forth between Laurent and Damen, as if trying to decide whether he should press Laurent further or not. Eventually, he sighed, “Very well. It was nice to meet all of you… kind of. I hope we’ll get a chance to make proper acquaintances,” Torveld shot them a smile, although a less happy one than previously, “I will see you later, Laurent.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The strange man walked towards Makedon’s office and as soon as he disappeared behind the corner, it was Laurent’s turn to exhale heavily. The blond glanced at him and raised a corner of his mouth a bit. Damen smiled but refrained himself from saying “you’re welcome”. His new friend wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Who was he?” Auguste asked, clearly displeased with the exchange he just witnessed.

“Torveld, a high rank scientist from Bazal,” Laurent leaned on his brother’s desk and scoffed, his annoyance breaking through the cold facade, “It turns out the Patrans blew something up last week and subjected us to the aftershocks.”

“Aftershocks from the explosion in Patras?” Damen had a hard time believing it.

Laurent shrugged, “Depends on what blew up. I tried to ask and he was willing to talk about anything but the explosion. He just muttered something about some faulty reactor. Maybe Makedon can find out more.”

***

The scanner beeped and flashed in red. Again.

He stopped mid step and raised the device to the wall, observing the screen closely. It flashed once again, shortly, then the signal appeared more and more frequently, as he moved his hand higher.

One of Damen’s duties was the weekly inspection of the security wall. There was an official name for this massive thing but everyone called it the security wall anyways, because that’s exactly what it was - a wall on which depended the safety of every single Spectrum agent inside the Marlas HQ.

The wall in question was in fact a massive computer. Although it’s been a very long time since people had to build computers this big in order for them to work, this was no ordinary machine. It was a server which sole purpose was to shield the HQ from hackers and spies. The complexity of the mechanism and the number of computers and runestones, of which the server consisted, was the reason it took so much space. It was also being inspected twice a week for any sign of breaches or parts in need of replacement. Today was Damen’s turn to do the rounds. In three days it would be Jokaste’s turn. 

Having found the faulty piece, he marked it on his tablet and moved on with the inspection. Later, after he had finished, Damen would send the complete report to a designated scientist who would deal with it. It wasn’t Damen’s job to fix the wall.

When he reached the end of the machine, he noticed two figures heading in his direction. One was a welcome one, very much so.

The other, however, not so much.

“Jokaste, it’s nice to see you,” he smiled happily at the tall blonde, then moved his eyes to the man accompanying her, the smile becoming polite, “Professor Revere. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“The professor wished to take a look at our shield,“ Jokaste explained. She handed her own tablet to the older man, who immediately started going through what, as Damen speculated, must have been the specifications.

The head scientist left the visitor to his own devices and walked up to Damen. He briefed her on all the faulty parts in need of replacement he had found on his inspection. She nodded thoughtfully and added a few things to the file he was going to send to the office later. Both of them kept their voices down, not wanting to disturb whatever the other man was doing.

Jokaste seemed completely unperturbed by his presence. She focused on the raport and occasionally discussed things with the warrior. Damen, on the other hand, found himself glancing at him from time to time.

He was aware of the fact that scientists, especially those with the professorship, were extremely bright people, but more often than not they also had a specific field they specialized in. Considering the way he tried to influence the excavation, Damen assumed Revere specialized in ancient runes or something similar.

Now the man was going through their cyber defence system. Maybe the warrior was exaggerating but…

“It is not polite to stare at an older person like this, young man,” the professor mentioned off-handedly and Damen felt himself falter. He shot a glance at Jokaste, who pointedly looked at the tablet in her hands.

“I apologize, professor, I just…” he ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling as if he had been caught cheating at a test, “I was wondering why you’re so interested in our defence system.”

“There’s a new update coming soon,” it was Jokaste who answered his question, “and professor Revere was kind enough to offer to check if our current equipment is compatible.”

“Are you qualified?”

The professor finally raised his eyes from the screen, fixing them on Damen. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

The eyes, impossibly blue eyes, were so similar and yet so different from the man’s nephews’ eyes. They were nothing like Auguste’s, the blue warm and inviting like the summer sea in the south, promising a good and relaxing time. They were closer to Laurent’s eyes, but even during the first three weeks, during which the youngest Revere looked at him with either disdain or irritation, they were a much more welcome sight than the professor’s. Even when Laurent closed himself off, trying not to show any emotions, his eyes weren’t exactly empty. There was ice in them, the blue making him think of the glaciers in the northern Vask, but something was still in there.

Now, the blue eyes before him were void of any emotion.

They seemed dead.

“Why would you think I’m not?” Reginald asked with a silky smooth voice and a small smile on his lips.

“Well,” he swallowed, “judging by the way you tried to, uhm, give your advice to your nephew on the excavation, I assumed you specialized in ancient runes or something similar.”

The professor laughed. The sound for some reason only made Damen more tense. It was like being alone in a pit with a snake: the snake could relax, you could not.

“Now, young man, you surely are aware that intelligent people make sure they’re comprehensively educated and proficient at as many skills as possible. I’m certain you do more than run around the city shooting people and occasionally picking up tasks that aren’t in your job description,” he gestured towards the wall.

“Yes, of course, I apologize…”

“I understand how the acquaintance with my youngest nephew might have distorted this picture,” he continued, handing back the tablet to Jokaste, “He’s still very young, full of ideals and belief he only needs one field to be proficient in to be a respected and admired scientist. But he’ll learn, I hope.”

Damen furrowed his brows. Laurent seemed far from narrow-minded in his opinion. He was knowledgeable with the oldest runes, which was impressive on it’s own, but he also efficiently took care of the gun the warrior brought to the workshop and prepared the new, better runestone. Not to mention how quickly he had fixed the generator on his first evening in Marlas.

The blood boiled in his veins with annoyance. He did not appreciate other people insulting his friends. How could Laurent’s own uncle talk about him like this?

Before he could decide whether or not to mention all these things, Reginald addressed Jokaste one last time and walked away.

Damen watched the man retreat, still very much irritated and disturbed. When the professor disappeared behind the corner, he felt a gentle hand on his biceps.

“Don’t pay him too much mind, Damen,” she said softly, “Scientists so high in the ranks tend to be quite bizarre and socially awkward. I’m sure you simply misunderstood each other.”

The warrior looked away from the now empty corridor and turned to the woman. Jokaste was looking up at him through her long, golden lashes, the glint in her eyes and flirtatious upturn of her mouth slightly teasing.

She moved her palm up and down, caressing Damen’s arm through the material of his uniform. He smirked.

“Can I see you later?” 

He laughed low in his throat, delighted by the way she almost purred, “After dinner, perhaps?”

“After dinner it is, then,” Jokaste rose on her toes, pressed her lips to Damen’s cheek and walked away in the same direction as Reginald.

***

Laurent could say whatever his heart desired, Damen considered him his friend now. Did they fight? Not anymore. Were they able to hold a proper, civil and even nice conversation? Absolutely. Did they respect one another? Since last week the answer was yes, they definitely did. Therefore, Laurent was now his friend and Damen was his.

Honestly, the scientist needed to get over it and just accept it. But he had to give it to the man, Laurent was gradually getting better at having a friend as the days went by, because when he sat down next to him in the scientists’ workshop, he muttered a quiet hi instead of telling him to go to hell.

Damen loved good progress.

“What are you doing?”

“Figure this one out, you’re a smart man,” the blond replied without raising his head and stopping scribbling in his notebook, the table covered with documents, just like a week ago.

The warrior took one page in his hand, ignoring the death glare it earned him from the other man, and studied the sheet. There were several runes printed on the paper - Ancient Artesian, he remembered after being rather harshly educated on the matter after their first joint field mission - together with brief descriptions and explanations of their potential meaning and usage. He scanned the other documents with similar information scattered all around the table. Then he met the blue eyes, already watching him.

“Why did you print out all of this?” He gestured to the mess between them . It was organized but a mess nonetheless.

“Because I need to work and my eyes hurt from glaring at the screen and holograms for the whole day.”

“No, I mean,” Damen sighed and put the page he was reading down. Laurent immediately placed it where it was supposed to be, “It’s late. I know you’re a workaholic, don’t even try to deny it,” he warned, seeing Revere open his mouth, most likely to argue, “I’m friends with your brother, he told me. But other than last week after our mission, when I came by to have my gun fixed, I haven’t seen you work at this hour, nor heard about it from someone else.”

Laurent’s eyes narrowed, “Did you just admit to spying on me, Damianos?”

“I’m starting to think I should, so I can be sure you don’t overwork yourself. I care for my friends, you know. I don’t want to see you sick.”

The blond pursed his lips and looked away. He made no attempt to deny that they were friends. Damen smirked. Good.

Laurent’s hand hovered over the table, correcting the document’s arrangement from time to time. It took a long while before he spoke again.

“My uncle is right…”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Don’t interrupt me, you brute,” Laurent snapped but the small smile on his lips softened the blow, “He’s right the works aren’t going as swiftly as they should. So I thought I could work on it for an hour or two overtime to, you know, push things forward a bit.”

Damen sighed and pointed at the digital clock on the wall, saying, “It’s been more than an additional hour or two, Laurent. It’s almost midnight.”

The scientist’s eyebrows shot upwards, “It is?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“And your uncle is an asshole for accusing you of laziness. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person as dedicated to their job as you. I mean it.” 

The two sat in silence for a long time. Laurent tried to do as much work as he was able to, visibly picking up his pace. From time to time we would raise his eyes from the runes and glance at Damen, as if to check if the warrior was still there, and quickly look back down when their eyes met. As if Damen would leave him alone now. He might be considered one of the strongest warriors in Marlas, but even then he wasn’t going to face the wrath of Auguste Revere who would literally destroy him if he allowed his little brother to die of exhaustion. Auguste could be terrifying at times.

And to be honest, Damen himself didn't want Laurent’s death on his conscience.

He busied himself with going through the documents lying around on his side of the table. There were a lot of them and while it was understandable the excavation and translations should proceed faster, Damen thought it to be unfair to blame Laurent for the delays. The man was the only person going through all this information. His uncle shouldn’t push him so hard.

“Listen, why won’t you…” he raised his head to look at the other man and halted, words stuck in his throat. Then, he covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hold back the hysterical laugh rising in his chest.

“What?” Laurent fixed him with a clearly confused stare, “what’s wrong with you?”

The warrior leaned on the table. He laughed more and felt the tears welling up in his eyes. When he thought he was going to calm down, one glance at Laurent’s bewildered expression had him laugh like a drain again.

“Would you stop already? What’s so fucking funny?” Now Laurent looked so irritated, it reminded of when they met a month ago.

If he had seen this at the beginning, he most likely would stop disliking the scientist much earlier.

Damen finally managed to get a hold of himself and straightened, though the overall amusement was still present in his smile and mirth glistening in his eyes.

He gestured towards the scientist’s head and snickered, “What’s that?”

“What, this?” Laurent touched his ponytail with a tentative hand, “Hair keeps falling in my eyes…What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing,” he smiled, “nothing at all.”

“Then why are you being so weird about it?”

“It just looks so cute,” Damen laughed again, “like a tiny palm tree.”

The younger man had gathered the front half of his hair and tied it with a hairband on the top of his head, blond strands spreading out in all directions above the elastic band.

The warrior reached above the table and gently patted the ponytail, delighted with the way it sprung up and down under his hand.

Just like tiny leaves of a tiny golden palm tree, moving on the wind.

Laurent sat there unmoving for a few seconds, shell shocked, his face growing more and more red. Damen grinned.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you look adorable.”

“Adorable, my ass,” Laurent muttered and Damen shrugged.

“Well, I haven’t seen your ass, so I can’t confirm… Hey!”

Laurent crushed the random page in his hand and in one swift motion threw it at Damen, who, shocked by the suddenness of the action, let it hit his face.

“I just said you look cute, you don’t have to use violence!”

“I’m not cute,” the blond took another page, crushed it and threw above the table, this time it didn’t reach its destination as Damen moved, “and I absolutely have to!”

“You’re destroying your documents, you moron!”

Laurent raised his eyebrows and said mockingly, “And now you’re insulting my intelligence? Very well,” this time he threw two paper balls at one time.

It went on for some time, paper flying in every direction, until a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere was cut short by the sound of a third person clearing their throat.

By the way Laurent tensed immediately, Damen didn’t have to turn back to see who it was.

“If this is how you spend your working hours, nephew, it’s no wonder the research takes you so much time.”

Laurent’s face flushed again and this time the sight of red on his cheeks didn’t please Damen, but anger him.

Before the young scientist could open his mouth to reply, Damen turned in his seat and shot a wide smile at the older man.

“Laurent works harder than anyone else I’ve ever met,” he said in an unyielding voice, “and it’s long past his working hours. He deserves a small break, after all the progress he made, don’t you think?”

Professor Revere opened his mouth, but again, Damianos spoke faster, “You don’t have to worry about his research. Everyone at Marlas HQ is very happy to have Laurent here with us and I have no doubt he’ll continue to make us proud.”

The scientist looked back and forth between the warrior and his nephew and although Damen felt like an animal at a display and very uncomfortable, he did his best not to show it.

Eventually, the man spoke, “I was going to say goodbye anyways. I’m going back to Chastillon.”

Revere opened his bag and took out a thick pile of documents. He placed them on the table.

“These are the compiled notes of everything I noticed in your reports that needed improvement,” he said, “as well as a few suggestions. It would be good if you at least considered implementing them into your work ethics.”

“Thank you. Travel safe, uncle.”

The professor nodded once, turned on his heel and walked out of the workshop. As soon as he was gone, Laurent’s shoulders sagged. Suddenly he looked ten years older and much more tired.

“You don’t have to take it, you know.”

“I would be stupid not to take advice from someone smarter than me,” the blond moved the file closer and put it in his own bag.”

Damen studied him for a moment. He thought of the time they spent disliking each other and how even then he admired Laurent for his relentlessness and dedication, how he always worked and did everything on his own.

“Why won’t you ask someone to help you?” he asked, “You’re busting your ass off and already doing so much, but it’s clearly too much for one person.”

Laurent shook his head, the small hair palm tree bouncing on top of his head and the remaining hair brushed the skin on his chin and neck, just a bit under ears. “I need to do this on my own, I need…” the blond pursed his lips, cutting himself off before he said too much. Damen sighed.

“You can’t keep working sixteen hours a day, Laurent,” he helped him gather the scattered documents back into one place, including the ones he’s been thrown at just mere minutes before, “You’re not a machine.”

Laurent froze and looked at him with wide eyes, which made Damen notice how blue they were, even in the dimmed artificial light.

“You’re smarter than you look,” the scientist said with wonder.

“Thank you?”

“Why haven’t I thought of it before?” Laurent muttered to himself, “I could run pictures of runes through a symbol recognition and cataloging program. If I write it myself from scratch, it will still be my independent work, but everything will go much faster."

Laurent quickly stowed the rest of his belongings, hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the door, squeezing Damen's arm lightly as he walked past him.

"Don't stay long, it's already late."

For a few more minutes Damen felt the ghost of the blond's hand on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
> I hope you enjoyed this week's update, as this is the last "happy" chapter you're going to get from me for a very long time :)  
> Shit's going down next week.  
> Take care of yourselves! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay, university makes my life harder these days. The updates may be less regular for a while, although I'll do my best to post more or less weekly.
> 
> PLEASE READ THE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

Writing this program was the best idea he’s ever got in his entire life.

Well, to be fair, the initial thought came from Damianos, not him. When the warrior mentioned him not being a machine, it felt as if everything fell into its proper place in Laurent’s mind. The sensation had been so exhilarating he almost hugged Damen, but fortunately his self-control had saved his reputation and he limited himself to squeezing the man's arm. Very muscular arm, he couldn’t help but notice.

It didn't matter. There was no time to waste thinking about his friend’s (yes, Laurent finally gave up trying to convince himself Damen and he weren’t friends, pretending otherwise was pointless) physical prowess, no matter how impressive it was. He never did that with any of his, however few he had, friends and he wasn’t about to start.

For the last several days, Laurent put away everything even remotely tied to the runes and focused on his new program. The excavation was still in progress and he kept an eye on it, but other than supervising the lower ranking scientists and several appointed warriors, Laurent hasn’t touched runes in days.

The code got longer, the commands became more complicated and specific. Laurent had to stop at times, read the previous few lines, and then move on. However, to a large extent the young scientist had the impression that his hands barely touched the keyboard and that the program was writing itself.

There was no need to create the program from scratch. The basics of the sorting and cataloging programs were the same, no matter what they ultimately did. It was necessary to modify the base code and enter commands specific to its purpose. That's what Laurent was doing now.

Did Laurent take Damen's logical advice and stop working long after hours? Of course not.

Did his eyes hurt from staring at the screen for hours? Yes.

Was he close to the bottom of the pain pills Aimeric had given him three weeks ago because he had a migraine almost every day? Naturally.

Did all this force him to slow down? No.

Writing programs was Laurent’s first love. Programming was the first thing he got a hang of and excelled at while studying at The Academy all those years ago. Ancient runes were a close second and he really loved them and their abilities, but at the beginning of his specialized education there still had been some remnants of his uncle’s rigid tutoring. It had taken him a while to get rid of the bitter aftertaste and love the runes as he once had, before Reginald had almost ruined them for his younger nephew. 

Laurent smirked as he typed the next line of the code. There was no doubt his uncle, telling him to bust his ass more and stop being lazy, meant Laurent should stop sleeping and glue himself to his desk while simultaneously arranging for a dozen slaves to do the same for him. The older man wouldn’t approve of him setting the research aside to work on this program for almost a whole two weeks.

But Laurent knew that once the program is finished, it will take mere minutes for it to catalogue every rune, every word and sentence, which will make translating much easier and faster.

He couldn’t wait to prove to everyone he was more resourceful than they thought him to be.

The scientist barely acknowledged the sound of the door opening, he was too immersed in his work to pay attention to his surroundings.

That is, until a hand slammed against the desk right by his side.

Laurent jumped in his chair and whipped around, fixing the intruder with an angry stare.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Aimeric wasn’t so easily put off by his icy glare. They knew one another for way too long for that to work on him, “Save the document,” the medic gestured to the screen and the half finished command, “You’re going to the cafeteria with me.”

“I have work to do,” Laurent turned back to the computer and typed the rest of the command.

“You also have a meal to eat. Which you should have eaten two hours ago.”

“You’re not my medic, Aimeric.”

“Want to bet on that, smartass?”

The scientist slowly took his hands away from the keyboard. He asked carefully, “What did you do?”

Aimeric fluttered his eyelashes, the attempt at appearing innocent destroyed by the sly grin on his lips, “Whatever do you mean?”

Laurent slapped his best friend in the arm. Hard.

“That’s assault, mister, I can report you to the HR for that.”

The blond just glared at him and after a moment, Aimeric sighed.

“I had you assigned as one of my direct patients.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

The medic raised a single eyebrow and looked at him sceptically, “Because I’m literally the only one in the medical department who’s not intimidated by you? Look,” he hopped on Laurent’s desk and the scientist quickly turned his computer off so his friend’s ass wouldn’t ruin a two weeks amount of work, “You’ve spent over a month as my superior’s patient and while that could have made sense before, now that I’m here…”

Laurent snorted and leaned back in his chair. He looked at his friend appraisingly, “You think you’re better than the main medic?”

“I think I won’t shit my pants if you glare daggers at me when I tell you to do something,” the man deadpanned, “Like now, for example. And don’t you dare tell me you’re not that bad,” he poked Laurent in the forehead, who immediately scowled at him, “Poor Isander is too pure for you. Your bad attitude alone would make him cry and that would be counterproductive for everyone. I know you, your medical history and lifestyle, and I’m not scared of you. I’m your best option here.”

That was true. And Laurent had to admit, it made him feel much more comfortable to know if anything was to happen, he would be taken care of by someone familiar and close to him.

He let himself be dragged out of the office, to Nicaise’s utter amusement to see his newest coworker being more or less manhandled. 

The other scientist might - and for sure will - laugh at him for following Aimeric like a lamb, but there was no point in resistance. If the matter of proper nutrition was involved, Aimeric was undeterred.

The cafeteria was moderately busy. It was, just as Aimeric mentioned before, a while since the majority of Spectrum agents usually made their way down to eat. But even after peak hours, with half of the chairs empty, to Laurent it felt crowded. Probably because he mostly ordered food to the office and when he did go down to the cafeteria, there were barely ten people there, including him.

Aimeric dragged him to the buffet. The scientist grabbed a tray and two plates and stood aside. It was easier to just let his friend choose the food for him, the medic was going to put back half of what Laurent would pick, so he wasn’t going to bother.

“Laurent!”

He turned away from Aimeric putting food onto his tray. It took him seconds to spot Auguste, waving at him from where he was seated. Laurent muttered something about getting them seats to Aimeric and walked up to his brother. Only when he stood next to the table did Auguste lower his hand.

“You have a bad habit of waving at me like a maniac in public,” he informed his brother who only laughed and patted him on the arm.

“Who am I going to be an idiot for if not my own baby brother?”

“Noone?” he raised a single eyebrow at him, “You’re a warrior captain, you have a reputation to maintain.”

“Are you going to sit with us?”

Laurent looked away from his brother and towards the other men seated next to him. Nikandros had a scowl on his face, as he often did in Laurent’s presence and the scientist wondered briefly whether it was because of him or did Nikandros always have this expression. If he did, Laurent felt bad for other people, because the warrior’s face was truly offensive if one had to look at this scowl for a longer period of time.

Not keen on worsening his mood, Laurent let his gaze fall on the third man. Looking at Damen was a lot more pleasant experience. He at least smiled at Laurent instead of treating his presence like something stinky and radioactive.

And the man asked if he wanted to join them. He was nice. Laurent liked him.

“I’m not alone,” he nodded towards Aimeric who was still busy by the buffet, “I came with a friend.”

“You have friends? Shocking.” Nikandros scoffed, which earned him a disapproving glare from Damen and a slap at the back of his head from Auguste.

Laurent discreetly bit the inside of his cheek, preventing a smile which began appearing. 

“Invite your friend,” Damen smiled at him, “The more the merrier.”

Auguste laughed, “You don’t know Aimeric. When these two would visit while they were still at The Academy, it sometimes felt as if I had two younger brothers instead of one.”

“Is Aimeric blond too?” Nikandros grumbled, throwing Damen a strange glance Larent couldn’t decipher.

A second later Aimeric appeared by the table, the tray so heavy Laurent reached out on instinct, expecting it to snap in half at any moment.

“You can’t expect me to eat all of this,” he said. There were bananas, apples, oranges, salads, steamed fish and a few other dishes he couldn’t identify at first glance. 

There was a lot of healthy food.

“Of course not,” Aimeric put the tray on the table rather forcefully and Laurent caught a water bottle - open - before it spilled all over the food, “half of it is mine.”

The two sat on the empty chairs, Laurent next to his brother and the medic next to him. It put them directly in front of Nikandros and Damianos and the blond did his best to pretend the former wasn’t there.

It was a good day. It will remain a good day, if he had anything to say about it.

Placing a plate in front of himself, he filled it with some fruit and the only fish he didn’t manage to spot a bone on yet. As the tray was full of healthy food, he figured it didn’t matter what exactly he ate, as long as it was from the pile.

“So, how’s the rune work going?” Auguste asked, sipping his orange juice, “I haven’t heard anything about you camping in the workshop in the middle of the night for a while.”

Laurent shrugged and peeled his banana, “I’ve put the runes aside for now,” he replied and swallowed a bite of the fruit,” been working on a cataloging program instead.”

“Is this the one I helped you with?” 

Looking up from his plate, he couldn’t in any way miss the big, sly grin on Damen’s face. Laurent narrowed his eyes at the man, but the warrior only huffed a laugh. He knew by now there was no malice present when Laurent glared at him like this, not anymore.

“You haven’t helped, you don’t know shit about programming.”

“But I inspired you.”

“If you say so.”

“I totally did,” he looked at Auguste now and, probably because the older Revere had confusion written all over his face, he elaborated, “I went to tell Laurent to stop overworking himself a few weeks ago, told him he’s not a machine and that your uncle is a dick for telling him he should be one, and your brother had an  _ aha! _ moment and now he writes this program!”

Laurent rolled his eyes goodheartedly. It was true that without Damen’s comment, it would have taken him a while to think of this type of solution. Until their conversation, Laurent had been too proud to realize sometimes a shortcut was the right thing to do and not a sign of weakness. Even warriors were able to say something smart and inspiring from time to time, it seemed.

And maybe Damen standing up for him to Reginald helped Laurent get more enthusiastic and willing to listen to him, but he would never admit it to anyone, even Aimeric.

Auguste grimaced, “Please don’t call my uncle a dick, would you?”

“Who, professor Reginald?” Aimeric spoke for the first time since he started digging in his own plate. He took a sip of his tea. It was herbal, of course, Aimeric would never drink some chemical cheap shit, “To say he’s a dick would be a compliment. He’s worse.”

Laurent exchanged a knowing look with his best friend. He wasn’t the only child that had been tutored by Reginald over the years. Aimeric had been there too, although never at the same time as Laurent.

The two barely spoke of what had happened in Chastillon. They shared only vague information and tried to help each other deal with the consequences which lingered on for many years. Neither knew the details about the other’s experiences.

Laurent wondered if Aimeric still despised alcohol.

Auguste’s eyes shifted back and forth between Aimeric and his younger brother. The silence fell upon the group as he tried to find the right words. Laurent knew what he thought of their uncle. Nothing. For Auguste, Reginald was just their father’s younger brother who mostly stayed away, tucked between holograms and piles of books he gathered for research purposes, and visited their family once in a blue moon. And when he did visit, he was always his charming, slightly mysterious self.

To Auguste, Reginald Revere was an absent but nice uncle.

But Auguste didn’t know him the way Laurent did.

Before the warrior captain could think of something, another figure walked up to their table. Laurent ignored the person, busying himself with a salad. It was a surprisingly fresh salad, usually by the time he got to the cafeteria to grab himself some food, which often happened to be a salad, the leaves would flatten, darken and become a bit dump from the dressing, especially because the cook often put too much of it…

Laurent should have known the pointless salad ramble he just did in his head wouldn’t discourage the man from attempting to have a conversation with him.

“Good afternoon, Laurent. How are you?”

The blond swallowed a tomato and raised his eyes.

“Hello, Torveld.”

The Patran scientist smiled. It would be a perfectly normal smile if it wasn’t for the way the man’s eyes mapped Laurent’s face in a way that made him uncomfortable. 

“I was hoping to catch you here for some time now,” Torveld placed a hand on the table, his fingers slowly following some imaginary pattern, “I wanted to discuss something with you.”

“What is it?” Laurent picked up a knife and cut off a piece of the fish. He immediately put it in his mouth, the meat pleasantly melting on his tongue.

“Well,” the older scientist leaned on the table fully, an apron thrown carelessly behind his hip. The brown uniform of Patran Spectrum agents wrinkled and twisted around the man’s waist. Laurent resisted the urge to grimace at the sight and forced himself to keep his face expressionless, “I work on these ancient runes from the caves near Bazal and I was wondering if you would be so kind and help me identify them. Maybe we could go through them over dinner? I know how hard you work and I wouldn’t want you to skip a meal because of me.”

Laurent did not want to go anywhere with him. Since Torveld arrived at Marlas, the blond became very happy with his packed schedule, for it allowed him to avoid the Patran without actively avoiding him. 

He could feel his brother shift uncomfortably by his side and Aimeric slightly shaking next to him from repressed laughter. Nikandros’ expression suggested the man was either bored to death or wanted to puke. Damen’s face, which he only could see a half of as Torveld stood in the way, Laurent was unable to read.

“Show me the runes first.”

He couldn’t just tell a foreign high rank scientist to get lost and refuse to help him only because he was being annoying. It would be bad for his reputation.

Torveld took out a portable hologram device and Laurent, once again, had to force himself to not react. Why won’t this man update his equipment? Nobody used square shaped devices anymore after round ones hit the market a whole two years ago.

The older scientist turned on his device and after a few clicks a hologram appeared.

It took Laurent a short glance at the rune in front of him to decide the man standing by his table was not only bothersome, but also an idiot.

“I’m sure you don’t need my assistance with these.” Laurent said with a carefully impartial tone, praying the man would get the hint and just leave. That would save them both the embarrassment.

Torveld did not take the hint. 

“I could really use your help, Laurent,” he tried to smile but the attempt was somehow destroyed by the man’s growing frown.

“You’ll do fine without me.” Laurent insisted, his hope dying as the lines on Torveld’s forehead deepend.

The scientist now looked at him with an openly confused expression and the blond sighed heavily, “They’re Patran, Torveld.”

Torveld opened his mouth a few times but any words he might have thought of never came out. Instead, he turned off the device, hid it in his pocket, threw him an awkward smile and briskly walked away from the table and the cafeteria.

„How is this guy in the science department?” Laurent stabbed a tomato viciously with his fork.

„Where would you put him if not science?” Nikandros asked.

„Nowhere,” he fixed the warrior with an icy glare, “The man didn’t recognize his own country’s runes, this is basic knowledge covered at the beginning of every kid’s education. I bet even you know what Artes’ runes look like, even if you can’t read them you would be able to identify their origin.”

Aimeric shook his head disapprovingly and put more fruit on Laurent’s plate. His friend would always complain about him not eating enough fruit each time they saw one another. He just let himself be fed. There was no point in arguing and, frankly speaking, he didn’t have it in him to argue with anyone after mentally restraining himself so he wouldn’t offend a foreign high rank scientist.

“Are you still hiding in your room?” The medic asked.

“You’re hiding in your room?” Auguste side eyed him, “Why?”

Laurent sighed, “I’m not  _ hiding,”  _ he threw daggers at Aimeric, the man knew how overprotective Auguste was and he should have known better than bring this up around him, “I just took some work back to my quarters a few times because the office was too loud for me to focus.”

The older of the brothers clearly didn’t believe him, if the amount of worry and annoyance written all over his face were any indicators. It wasn’t even a lie. Laurent actually wanted to work in silence and as the workshop was busy for the majority of the day, his quarters were his only option if he wanted to avoid noise. It just so happened that Torveld was the source of said noise.

“I’m honestly impressed how persevering this man is,” said Aimeric, “At school it took a day of you ignoring a guy and throwing him one of these icy glares for him to back off. But this one,” he glanced at the door Torveld had just left the cafeteria, “he’s brave. Or dumb.”

“Dumb.” Laurent chewed on an apple. It was sweet. When he raised his eyes, he was met with Aimeric’s knowing smile. His friend knew Laurent hated sour things.

Auguste turned to him. The concern was written all over his face and it broke Laurent’s heart. The last thing he wanted was to give his brother more reasons to worry about him. Other than making a career of his own, lifting this burden from Auguste’s shoulders was one of his main reasons for moving to Marlas. If they worked in the same place and could see one another on a daily basis, his brother wouldn’t need to worry that much. At least, that’s what Laurent intended.

“Do you need me to knock some sense into his head?” Auguste asked, the tone of his voice dead serious, “because I will. Just say a word.”

Laurent shot him a short, private smile and shook his head. There was no need for his older brother to get himself involved in this situation. It would only make things more awkward for everyone.

“So,” Nikandros cleared his throat, “you’re not one for a workplace romance, huh?”

One light eyebrow shot upwards at the question.

“Why, interested?”

The man sputtered and Damen fixed him with a strange glare, another one Laurent didn’t understand.

“Over my dead body.”

“Good, you’re not my type.” Laurent swallowed another bite of his food. Aimeric was right to drag him down here, he was starving. “To answer your question. I’m too busy to even think about going out with someone. Besides,” he added, “someone in my departament already has the romance thing covered, there’s no need for me to do it too.”

“Who? And, most importantly, with whom?”

Laurent just rolled his eyes. Aimeric was sometimes such a gossip. The blond couldn’t relate, he had no interest in other people’s lives, unless it concerned him directly.

He picked up the knife again and started cutting the rest of his fish into smaller, bite sized parts.

“Damen’s brother has a good taste, I admit.”

“What about my brother?” a glance in the warrior’s direction provided the scientist with an odd, confused expression, “He dates someone here?”

“Yes. Jokaste, I believe.”

He ate for a few seconds, unbothered by the silence which suddenly fell upon their group, until it became heavy and filled with tension. Only then he moved his eyes away from his food and had a second look at his company.

Aimeric seemed to be as confused as Laurent felt. The three warriors however looked at him as if they couldn’t decide if they should start laughing at some misplaced joke Laurent made, or if they would rather smack him.

“...what?”

“Laurent,” Auguste glanced briefly at Damianos before he turned his full attention to his younger brother, “Are you sure you know what you’re saying?”

Before Laurent could respond, Nikandros snapped, “Did you want to ruin everyone’s lunch? Are you back to being an asshole to him? Jokaste is not dating Kastor.”

He glared daggers at the warrior, not appreciating the sudden animosity.

“I have no fucking idea if she’s dating him or not, but she for sure let him press her against the wall not that long ago.”

“When?”

Laurent looked away from Nikandros and at Damen. He paused. Damianos, who for most of the time was like a walking ray of sunshine, always with a smile on his face, had a haunted expression on his face and seemed so small, the scientist immediately understood there was something bigger going on that just Damen not knowing about his brother’s fling.

“When did they…” he cut himself off and rubbed the base of his nose, “What did you see exactly?”

Laurent swallowed, not yet over the initial shock that his new friend’s reaction caused.

“The day of the final exam,” he said, “when I went to check on the reactor. I saw them kissing by the stairs.”

Damen hid his face in his big hands, as if he wanted to disappear. Nikandros put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Laurent looked at Auguste with a question in his eyes.

“Damen has been seeing Jokaste for a while.” Auguste explained. 

“Fuck…,” Aimeric muttered.

“She didn’t say anything?”

Laurent shook his head, “No. Not to me, at least. She barely told me how she likes her coffee.” He turned back towards Damen, who visibly deflated, “If I had known sooner…”

Nikandros scoffed, “What would you have done, huh? Hurt him earlier?”

“Leave him alone, Nik, Laurent didn’t do anything.” Damen lowered his hands. He looked as if he hadn't slept in three days.

Laurent usually was skilled with words, it was never hard for him to voice a proper response which would, depending on the outcome he wanted to achieve, either lift spirits or break people into tiny pieces. But now he was unable to find the right ones. What does a person say in a situation like this?

Seeing tough, relentless Damen become this shadow of himself, with no traces of his inner strength, with nothing more than disbelief and hurt in his eyes, was more difficult than Laurent ever thought it could be.

A growing part of him wished he hadn’t said anything.

The heavy silence was disrupted by a high pitched  _ ping  _ coming from Auguste’s wrist band. Just as he raised his hand to check the notification, other warriors’ bands also lit up, one after another. 

Then so did Laurent’s and Aimeric’s. Several other people in the cafeteria also appeared to receive the same message.

They exchanged short goodbyes and went to their respective supervisors. Before Laurent could reach the main scientists’ office, he bumped into Nicaise who immediately grabbed his arm and dragged him in the opposite direction.

“What’s going on?” Laurent asked, “And why are there so many of us?”

There were at least a dozen scientists beside Nicaise and him, each and every one of them with the same tension in their bodies, as they walked down the corridor towards the hangar.

“A rebellian attack in the middle of Marlas,” the younger scientist tapped on his tablet and pressed it into the blond’s hands, “A big one. Makedon’s sending four warrior teams, four scientists per each van and two separate medic vans.”

Laurent looked down at the orders in his hands. It was unusual to send so many warriors for one mission. The same for scientists. Generally a team consisted of twelve to twenty four warriors, two or three medics and one, maybe two scientists. If a mission required proceeding undercover, there had to be one person from each division present. For Makedon to delegate so many of them to one location at the same time meant there was something very dangerous happening. 

The longer he read, the heavier his chest became. A quick check-up of the map showed the place of the attack lacked any high profile buildings - no major firms or organisations, no embassies, no politicians’ houses. It was a shopping district, which meant…

“They’re targeting civilians.” Laurent whispered and Nicaise, who walked closely, nodded.

“There are already casualties. We need to hurry.”

They rushed to the underground parking. On the way there, Laurent studied the map of the terrain very closely. Having already put on his headpiece, which Nicaise grabbed for him on the way out, he brought up the most recent 3D picture of that place. There was going to be a pandemonium after they arrived and the least he could do was prepare himself as thoroughly as possible, so he wouldn’t accidentally fly the drone somewhere he won’t be able to shoot from.

Although the parking was packed with people, nobody spoke louder than a mere whisper. A shiver ran through Laurent’s body. As much as he enjoyed complaining about warriors being too noisy, seeing these people quiet didn’t sit well with him.

The scientists lined up in an even row next to the medics. Moments later, Makedon appeared in the doorway, followed by Jokaste. Laurent glanced discreetly at the group of warriors standing nearby, his thoughts drifting towards Damen. 

The two faced agents waiting for their briefing.

“I won’t make a long speech, because we would be wasting precious time.” The man boomed, his usual light tone gone replaced by a professional, strict voice. ”Two rebel groups of around fifty people in total have attacked the shopping district on Vere Street. We don’t know the amount of casualties but there are civilians getting hurt in there. Protect the citizens. Help whoever is hurt. Arrest these lunatics. Do whatever it takes to stop this massacre. Am I understood?”

“YES, SIR!” The agents screamed.

Makedon nodded sharply. “Good. Jokaste here will send you your placements to your wrist bands. Good luck!”

The bands lit up collectively and people began mixing, trying to get to their appointed vehicle. After he noticed Nicaise heading towards the same van, Laurent felt slightly better. He didn’t recognize the other two scientists who joined them, so it was comforting to have someone he trusted by his side. 

When they reached the van, the blond felt even more reassured. Even though their first and only joint mission was a failure, considering their initial clash, it was good to see Damen and Nikandros there.

“Hurry inside, we need to be out of here as soon as possible.” Damen said and the scientists hopped in.

“Which one of you is of the highest rank?” Nikandros asked.

“Me and Revere.” Nicaise replied.

“We’ll start with setting up the communication.” The blond added.

Damen nodded and they went to work. The two scientists who Laurent didn’t know busied themselves with distributing the headpieces while Nicaise and Laurent turned on the computers and set up the communication channel. 

The vehicle quickly filled up with Spectrum agents and as soon as the last person had taken their seat, the door closed and the van was on its way.

The vans sped through the city. Another team must have already cleared the roads on their way as there were no cars that would force them to slow down. The drivers drove in full speed, only slowing down so they wouldn’t topple over at the turns. In the meantime, Laurent, Nicaise and other two scientists prepared every drone they had to be ready the moment they arrived, as well as other equipment, while Damen and Nikandros reminded everyone of their orders.

“Our team’s purpose is to secure the eastern quadrant. Take down any rebel you see, but remember,” Damianos looked every team member straight in the eyes, emphasizing the importance of the situation, “our priority is the civilians’ safety! Always choose the civils over the rebels. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Before the visuals from the camera there came sounds. 

Excruciating, high pitched screams filled the air. Loud, pained voices begging for help, combined with the piercing sound of guns held Laurent’s stomach in a tight, cold grip. As the van emerged from around the corner, Laurent gasped as he saw the images from the cameras.

It was chaos. Overturned columns and statues lay everywhere, and a few ornamental trees were on fire. The fountain nearby was spraying water in all directions. Neon banners were hanging from buildings, flashing colorful lights irregularly. And in between all this mess, civilians ran desperately trying to get out of this hell or at least find shelter from the masked rebels chasing them.

Here and there, a limp body lay between shattered sculptures and broken glass.

“Guns and lasers set to stun! Go!”

The warriors put on their helmets and jumped out of the van as soon as it stopped. The four medics that came with them immediately began preparing their own equipment, just in case there was a need for medical assistance. Something told him, there would be.

The scientists grabbed the controls and flew their drones behind their teammates.

Laurent briefly went back to his first field mission and how easy in comparison it went back then. Now, he needed every ounce of control and focus, so he wouldn’t accidentally shoot an innocent person.

Laurent’s whole attention narrowed to the image from his drone, taking down any rebel he could spot and notifying the medics where their help was needed. He was also in constant contact with Damianos, although they exchanged only several words at a time. Both of them needed to stay focused.

After a long time, Laurent could finally slow down a bit. The number of rebels went down significantly and he could breathe deeper for once.

The drone flew higher. The scientist scanned the image on his screen closely. Just because there weren’t many people shooting at them anymore didn’t mean there were no other threats.

He was about to move the drone when he saw a movement.

There was a man, hiding behind a fallen column. He was big and muscled, his hair was cut short and the clothes on his back had seen better days. The man was certainly a rebel, there was a gun and a knife tucked behind his belt. But what made the hair on Laurent’s neck raise was the device in front of him.

“Shit…” he cursed and connected with Damen’s headpiece, “Damen, there is a man with a bomb by the western wall of the shopping centre.”

_ “Can you take him down?” _

“He keeps moving,” Laurent grimaced as he tried to adjust the position of his drone, “I don’t have a clear shot. I could accidentally hit the bomb.”

_ “What’s the location?” _

A quick glance to a map.

“You’re the closest. Just around the corner on your left. He’s behind the fallen column.”

_ “Copy that.” _

“Be careful, he’s armed.” He added.

Laurent moved the drone higher so he could see the direction from which Damen was going to come and keep an eye on the man. He still didn’t have a clear shot. It would be so much easier if he could just--

The rebel must have heard Damianos coming as he whirled around towards the warrior. Damen was lifting his gun when an unlucky young man ran by the rebel, who grabbed him by the collar and held in front of him like a human shield.

Laurent switched the image from his drone to Damen’s camera.

The rebel’s face was covered in dirt and blood but Laurent was still able to discern the sly, animalistic smile under a broken, twisted nose.

The man pressed the knife to the teenager’s throat and began walking backwards. Damen followed him carefully. The warrior had the gun ready but Laurent knew he wasn’t going to shoot until the young man was away. They had orders to not kill anyone and even a stun shoot on the head could kill.

When they reached the corner, the rebel pushed the boy away forcefully and ran. Laurent quickly went back to the drone’s camera but the man disappeared.

***

Half of the combined teams were left to deal with the aftermath of the attack, secure the damaged and dangerous buildings, help move the bodies and provide medical assistance to the injured. Nicaise was among the scientists who stayed. The young man wanted to take a look at the bomb the man with the broken nose had left behind.

Laurent went back to the HQ and he was in the middle of writing a report when his headpiece, which they were all asked to keep on for now, signaled an incoming call.

_ “Mr. Revere, you’re needed in the interrogation room.”  _

“I’m coming.”

As Laurent headed down, the tension he felt during the mission came back to him, locking every muscle in an iron grip. It’s been a long while since he was present during an interrogation but he hasn’t forgotten a single second of it.

He also knew what it meant.

If a scientist is asked to conduct an interrogation, the usual methods have failed.

Generally, the warriors were the ones to cross-examine a suspect. They asked them questions, recorded the answers and wrote the reports. The case then went to the court and a person stood a trial. 

However, if a suspect refused to speak and the warriors were unable to find out anything useful, a scientist would be called to do their own type of investigation, which most of the time everyone tried to avoid. For ethical reasons.

Laurent knocked on the door and a second later a familiar face appeared in front of him.

“No luck?” he asked and went inside.

“Unfortunately, no.” Damen sighed heavily and led him deeper into the room.

Scientists’ interrogation room resembled a laboratory, white and sterile. There was not much inside. A small table with thin glasses, silver gloves and a tablet placed on the top; a few chairs on the side, for whoever wished to observe, currently occupied by Makedon and Auguste, a third one left for Damianos; a medic’s station on the side, where he spotted equally tired looking Aimeric.

And a massive laser in the middle, hovering above a large recliner.

Laurent looked over his shoulder at the man tied to the recliner as he put on the gloves one by one, “You really should have told them everything,” he said, “but you refused the easy way.”

The rebel spat blood to the floor and snarled, “I won’t tell you shit, you Spectrum scum.”

Laurent put on the glasses and took the tablet, “Oh, but you will.”

He tapped a few times on his tablet and the laser hummed silently as it began turning on.

Makedon spoke in a serious tone, “Find out as much as you can but don’t fry his brain, we need him fully functioning.”

“Of course. Aimeric, instal the chip, would you?”

Aimeric stood up from his chair and walked to the recliner with a small object in his hand. The rebel immediately began struggling in his restraints, the wounds on his face bleeding once again from the movement. Damen closed the distance and held him down, while the medic reached to the back of the man’s neck, where he pressed the chip to his skin.

“It won’t hurt you,” Aimeric said, withdrawing his hand, “if you cooperate.”

Laurent came closer and the other two immediately went back to their respective places. The room fell silent.

A light touch on the side of the glasses turned them on and he could see the laser was warmed up and ready.

“Let’s start easy, shall we?” he guided the laser to the outer parts of the brain, “I saw a big, fat elephant on the beach last month.”

The glasses blackened for half a second and then Laurent saw the image of the elephant on the beach, exactly the way he described.

“Connection established. Visual on the screen.”

Another tap on the tablet and a holographic image of the animal appeared for everyone in the room to see.

He started with a basic set of questions. Name - Josh Black. Age - 32. Nationality - Artesian, born in Karthas.

Josh clearly struggled, trying to keep his mouth shut, but every time he managed to remain silent, Laurent would turn the power up. Just a bit, not enough to hurt the man.

After half an hour they had his full name and address, as well as locations, names and faces of several of his co-conspirators.

“We need the name of his boss.” Makedon said.

“Over my dead body,” the rebel breathed heavily, his hair wet with sweat stuck to his face. 

“Not on my watch,” Laurent replied and moved the laser slightly deeper. The information they needed for sure was stored in a place more secure, as the boss was of more importance than a mere acquaintance, “Who ordered the attack?”

A grimace twisted the man's face as he tried to resist. Laurent pressed harder.

“Who was it? Who told you to attack these innocent people?”

An image appeared on the hologram. It was a memory from the attack. A memory of a hand - Josh’s hand - clasped tightly around a little girl’s throat, while the other hand pressed the tip of the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

Laurent felt sick. She could be no older than ten.

The rebel shivered, feeling more pressure from the laser.

“The person behind this attack, who brought your groups together,” Laurent’s voice turned ice cold with anger. He was furious for every injured civilian, for every lifeless body he saw, for the terrified little girl, murdered in cold blood, “tell me their name!”

Josh gritted his teeth forcefully and shut his eyes tightly.

“Show me their face!”

Something in the man’s mouth snapped. He started shaking uncontrollably. A steady gurgle rose in his throat until the man began to spit blood.

Aimeric shot out of his chair and ran to the recliner, “Turn off the laser!”

Laurent shut the whole thing down and watched as the rebel choked on his own blood and, after a few seconds, stopped moving.

The medic pressed two fingers to the side of his throat. 

“Dead.”

Laurent’s eyes immediately went to his brother, who looked equally as shocked as Lauren’t felt.

“I-- I didn’t--” he stammered, now looking between Makedon and Damen, who blanched, “The laser wasn’t that strong, I swear--”

“It’s not you, Laurent,” the blond’s head snapped towards his best friend, who leaned closer to the dead man’s face and inhaled, “He smells of  cyanide. He did it himself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a vague description of a child getting murdered, a description of a suicide - both at the end of the chapter


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Ok, so first of all - there's high chance the next update will be later than usual. University makes my life harder and combined with the usual mess during the holidays, I may not have enough time to write the chapter.  
> So, happy holidays to everyone who celebrates! 
> 
> PLEASE READ THE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

“What the fuck just happened?”

Damen wanted to ask the same question but the words got stuck in his throat and all he could manage was shake his head at Makedon and observe what was going on around him.

Auguste immediately stood up and rushed to his brother, who would have looked perfectly normal with his expressionless mask on, which he often wore while at work, if it wasn’t for his slightly dazed eyes. The medic who assisted Laurent earlier - Aimeric, his friend from the cafeteria, Damen remembered - walked away from the body to make a call. Makedon was pissed and started pacing. Damen himself felt as if he was sleepwalking.

It was a long day. It began just fine. He went on a morning jog, completed his shooting practice, sparred with Kastor and did some desk work after taking a shower. Then he went to the cafeteria with Nik and Auguste, where they were joined by Laurent and Aimeric.

It was a nice day and even the tactless Patran scientist, who clearly tried to impose himself on Laurent which must have bothered his friend more than he showed, didn't manage to ruin Damen’s mood.

That is, until Laurent dropped the bomb during the meal.

It didn’t even cross the warrior’s mind that Jokaste might be involved with his brother. They weren’t exactly a couple, him and Jokaste, but they have been seeing each other for a while now and Damen was certain they were exclusive. He wouldn’t have thought she would keep dating other people. Especially not his own brother.

From that unfortunate announcement everything simply went to shit.

This field mission was an absolute nightmare and Damen wished for his alarm clock to go off and wake him up in a world where the last several hours never happened.

Not only was combining forces out of the ordinary, but so was targeting civilians. One could say the worst about the rebels, but they have never attacked civilians before. Never. Not even once. The anarchists had a very strict code of sorts. People in power, such as Spectrum or various politicians, were considered enemies. Targets. Ordinary people walking down the street were just like hamsters in a spinning wheel, Helpless, trapped victims of the system. They were innocent in the rebels’ eyes and therefore not a target.

It didn’t make any sense.

His eyes went back to the bloodied body on the recliner. Something turned in his stomach at the sight of the man, Josh, turning paler with every moment, covered in his own blood.

However much Damen could respect a person’s loyalty to the cause they believed in, he couldn’t help but want to run a laser blade through the man’s heart for what he’s just done.

This misplaced loyalty of his would cost a lot of people their lives.

Four medics entered the interrogation room. One of them dragged a stretcher behind him, while the others helped Aimeric take the body off of the recliner.

“How did this piece of shit smuggle cyanide in here?” Makedon snapped.

Auguste turned around to face their boss but he kept his hand on Laurent’s shoulder, “I will find out who arrested and searched him.”

Makedon slammed his fist against the wall and cursed profoundly, “That man was the leader of this attack! And now we don’t know why they started shooting civilians because the fucker bit through a bloody poison pill!”

Damen swallowed the lump in his throat and forced the words out of his mouth, “I’m sure we can find someone else…”

“He fucking poisoned himself to death! Right before he sold his boss! We don’t let terrorists do shit like this!”

“I’m going to inspect the data from the chip,” Laurent spoke, the previous shock now absent from his voice, “maybe there’s something useful on it.”

“Yes, do that,” the oldest warrior dismissed him, “We need any piece of information we can get.”

Aimeric carefully turned the corpse’s head and took out the chip. Cleaned with a tissue and tucked away in a box, he handed the device to the scientist.

“I'm going to do an autopsy, maybe I'll find something important," Aimeric said, and left the interrogation room with the rest of the medics and the stretcher. Laurent followed them.

Makedon rubbed his face with a large, scarred hand.

“Auguste, find out who is responsible for this fuck up. Damianos, check if there’s someone else worth dragging down here among these terrorists.”

Having said that, Makedon stormed out of the interrogation room.

With everyone gone, the only ones left in the room were Auguste, Damianos and a puddle of blood next to the recliner.

“I--” Auguste coughed, “I’m going to search for those men.” The blond warrior fixed Damen with a concerned gaze, “Are you going to be ok?”

It took him a second to realize the floor wasn’t moving but it was him, nodding unconsciously.

“I’ll go through the list of rebels we arrested.”

“You don’t have to do it now, Damen.”

“I do,” he insisted. His eyes travelled towards the puddle but he looked away before he could see the red clearly, “I need to…”

Auguste nodded sharply. There was no need for him to finish this sentence. They both knew what he meant.

It took every ounce of self control not to peek around his shoulder as they left the interrogation room, passing the cleaning crew in the door.

*** 

He sat down heavily on the bed and hid his face in his hands. The adrenaline was slowly going down and he was starting to feel just how much this day wrung him out. His whole body felt heavy and hurt in several places, a consequence of the intense fight from before. A rebel managed to hit him a few times from behind when Damen was busy with their three companions in front of him. Luckily, they didn't manage to cause much harm through the vest he’s been wearing. But combined with the general exhaustion, it did hurt quite a bit.

Damen didn’t know how much time he spent sitting like this. Could have been minutes or hours. Some part of his brain knew he should at least get up, take a shower and go to bed, but he was too tired to do these things. So, he stayed where he was.

At one point there was a knock on the door. Without moving, he called for the person to come in. He has forgotten to lock the door earlier.

“Damen?”

The sound of footsteps came nearer and after a while the mattress gave way under the weight of his older brother.

“How are you holding up, buddy?” Kastor asked.

“How do I look?” 

“Like a piece of chewed up shit, if I have to be honest.” Kastor chuckled and bumped his arm against Damen’s. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes though.

“Yeah, I feel like shit too.” The younger brother sighed.

The other warrior hummed thoughtfully, “I’ve heard you had a tough one today.”

“It wasn’t a mission, Kastor, it was a massacre.” Fingers of one of his hands gripped his hair so tight, the scalp stung a bit. “They were shooting at civilians. Civilians, Kastor!” he looked at his brother, outraged with what had transpired earlier that day, “They never kill ordinary citizens.”

“Yes, that is unusual,” Kastor muttered.

“And then this rebel guy killed himself in the middle of the interrogation!”

“In the interrogation room?” Kastor raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise, “How did he…?”

“Poison pill in a tooth,” Damen said, “He choked on his own blood on the fucking reclainer.”

Kastor cursed profoundly.

“Heads are going to fall for that, for sure,” the older Vallis mentioned off-handedly, “This is an unacceptable negligence of duty. Whoever searched that man should have been checked after by their supervisor, this attack was way too important to allow such shortcomings.”

Damen looked away and swallowed. His heart grew heavy with guilt. It was Auguste and him who were in charge that day. The two of them were responsible for everything that happened since they drove out of the HQ. 

Something unpleasant rolled in his stomach.

“Well, I’m sure you can find someone else to interrogate,” Kastor clapped his arm reassuringly, “One dead rebel more is a good thing in the long run.”

Damen observed his brother’s easy, comforting smile and for a second he felt better, but then he remembered what Laurent had said earlier in the cafeteria.

“Kastor…” he cleared his throat, “The person you’re dating...?”

“What about her?” Kastor’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“Can you tell me her name?”

There was some part of him that wished his friend had been wrong. Although he didn’t appreciate being lied to, he’d rather have Laurent deceive him than find himself in this situation with his older brother. Out of two two awful choices, Damen would choose to have an argument with Laurent than with Kastor over a woman. They had fought over too many things when they had been younger, before Damen moved to Marlas. With the blond, he knew they could possibly bounce back without much harm done in the long run, but with Kastor… That’s another story.

“Uhm, you actually know her” Kastor rubbed his neck, “It’s Jokaste… why are you looking at me like this?” brown eyes narrowed at him with suspicion.

It felt as if someone punched him in the gut.

“I don’t know how to…” Damen stuttered, “how should I…”

“Spit it out, bro.”

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been seeing Jokaste for a while now.”

A beat of silence. The older man looked at him with confusion written all over his face.

“What?”

“Yeah, we went on a couple of dates, but I swear I didn’t…”

“Wait, hang on for a second.” Kastor raised a hand to stop him and the younger man shut his mouth, “Weren’t you dating that blond scientist? You said you were when I asked.”

“I meant Jokaste, who did you think I talked about?”

“Auguste’s brother? He’s exactly your type.”

“Laurent?” it was Damen’s turn to be surprised, “No, we haven’t… It’s not like this. He’s a friend.”

Kastor stood up and walked to the window. As he was looking outside, Damen tried his best to read his brother’s expression but he couldn’t. Whether it was because of his own exhaustion or the amount of time they spent apart, the younger Vallis couldn’t tell.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” He said after some time, when the silence became uncomfortable.

“You just told me you’re dating my girlfriend,” Kastor’s fist clenched by his side and for a split second Damen wondered if his brother was about to punch him, “what am I supposed to say to this?”

“How long have you been together?”

“A year or so,” he replied, still facing away from Damen, “We started going out when she was still working at Ios HQ. Then, after she got the offer to take over the science department in Marlas, we agreed to stay together.”

“I had no idea she already had someone, I swear.” the words came out of his mouth not much louder than a whisper, “I wouldn’t do that to you, brother.”

“Yeah, right…” Kastor rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, “I think I should go and talk to her. See you later, Damen. Take some rest.”

“Are we… are we alright?”

Kastor opened the door and threw him a half smile over the shoulder before stepping outside.

When the door slid shut behind him, Damen flinched. Suddenly he felt even more tired than before.

***

His feet led him to a familiar place, one he has been visiting on a regular basis over the last month. It was simply a muscle memory that took over while his mind wondered. He didn’t think anything of it, instead opened the door and stepped into the scientists’ workshop.

Damen’s eyes immediately spotted the blond head of his friend. Similar to as it usually was during late evening hours, Laurent was the only one at a table, working. It’s been a while since Damen lost count how many times he asked him why wouldn’t he just go to his room and rest, like everyone. And now he found him in his usual place by the wall, bent over whatever work he was doing, this time early in the morning.

“How are you feeling?”

The blond lowered the tool he held in his hand. The blue eyes bore into his own. Some time ago, Damen felt as if years have passed and not mere weeks, these eyes seemed uninviting in their coldness. Now, the icy blue wasn’t unpleasant to look at. It reminded him of the cool water inside southern caves, it’s lower temperature soothing on hot summer days.

“I’m fine.” The blond’s voice was as sharp as shattered glass. He has heard this tone before. At the very beginning after they met, this was the way Laurent would talk to him most of the time. But now, after knowing the young man and being friends with him for nearly a month, Damen knew there was no bite behind the apparent animosity.

“Laurent…”

“I said I’m fine.”

“A man just killed himself in front of you,” he whispered, “You’re allowed to not be alright after something like this.”

Laurent averted his eyes.

“How much have you slept tonight?” when the answer never came, he asked, “Have you slept at all?”

“There is information on this chip,” the scientist picked up his tool and moved the screen closer to his face, “I need to go through it, maybe there’s something that could save our faces on it.”

They sat in silence for a long while, Damen observing the blond at work. Hair kept sliding out from behind his ear, where the man tried to tuck it so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes. Those piercing, blue eyes, which even despite the exhaustion made obvious by the dark circles under them still somehow managed to focus on the task. How the man was able to power through everything and keep working while his body must have screamed and begged for a break, Damen couldn’t comprehend.

The warrior’s thoughts went back to the night Laurent came up with the idea for his program.

“I feel like I failed,” he blurted out.

Laurent’s eyes snapped up at him, question in them obvious.

“I didn’t even think about searching the man myself,” he admitted. His face became a bit hotter and the warrior shut his eyes for a moment,” If I did, he would be still alive. I should’ve checked if the agents who arrested him did it properly.”

“You’re not responsible for other people’s mistakes,” the scientist said quietly.

Damen opened his eyes and his gaze met Laurent’s. For some reason a part of him expected the man to look at him with pity, but there was nothing of this nature in the blond’s eyes. It startled Damen at first but then he remembered, Laurent went through the same thing. To be honest, Damianos wasn’t the one who had the most to lose after the failure in the interrogation room. It wasn’t warriors’ interrogation. If someone had reasons to feel bad about what had happened the previous day, it would be Laurent. After all, he was the one to conduct the questioning. He would be the first to blame, had anyone questioned whether the rebel did commit suicide on the recliner or not.

The silence between them was filled with unspoken understanding and compassion.

“I’m sure everything’s going to be fine,” Damen tried to smile and could feel it come off as more of a grimace, but when he saw the corner of the blond’s lip lift the tiniest bit, the heart swelled in his chest with pride.

Laurent opened his mouth to say something when lights around them began blinking furiously. They looked around and then at one another in utter confusion.

A second later the lights turned red and there was a shrill, loud alarm going off.

“What now?” Laurent groaned.

“Is this the reactor again?” Damen asked while his friend threw everything from the table into his bag, “Like during the final exams?”

“There had been no reactor at the finals,” the blond put the bag into a locker and closed it, “Not on our side, at least, though I’m not buying Torveld’s story about them blowing up one of their reactors.”

The two rushed to the exit, “Why not?”

“Think how far from Patras we are, Damen. There’s no way we could have felt the aftershocks from such a long distance.”

“Why would Torveld lie?”

“I don’t know,” Laurent shook his head as he pressed the button for the door to open, “Maybe he didn’t kno…”

Damen almost walked into the scientist who stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he put one foot in the corridor. Not even a second passed before he understood why Laurent froze.

It was as if all of Marlas HQ staff had left their offices and quarters at the same time and entered the corridor. People were running in all directions, bumping into each other and calling for someone they had lost in the crowd and flashing hazard lights.

In the corner of his eye he could see the scientist put a headpiece on and call someone. Damen did the same.

“What the fuck is going on, Nik?!” he raised his voice so his friend could hear him over the noise in the background.

_ “I don’t know!”  _ Nikandros yelled back,  _ “It looks as if the whole system went nuts! Nothing works properly…!” _

Whatever words he was about to say disappeared from his mind when he felt a familiar buzz around the wrist. His band lit up with a new order.

Damen ended the call with his friend and turned to Laurent, whose wristband also lit up.

“Did you find out anything?”

Laurent shook his head.

“Nicaise says there’s a pandemonium in the server room,” the blond glanced down at his wrist, “Where does yours tell you to go?”

Damen checked his orders, “South west quarter.”

“Mine too. Let’s go.”

The two stepped out of the workshop and into the overcrowded corridor. Damen didn’t think twice before reaching out and grabbing Laurent by the elbow. If they lost one another in the sea of people, they would only waste precious time. Apparently the blond figured as much, because he closed the distance between them and nearly plastered himself to Damen’s side.

They hurried downstairs as fast as they could. Heart hammered against the warrior’s ribs, ringing in his ears almost drowning out the commotion around him.

At once, Laurent stopped in the middle of the corridor and yelled, “AIMERIC!”

Sure enough, a familiar brown head stood by the door on the other end of the corridor, now half empty as a large group of agents left for the parking.

“Aimeric! Grab your bag! Fast!”

The medic nodded sharply and ran back into his own office. Half a minute later, he joined them and the three got into the first available car they could find.

As he drove through Marlas after Laurent typed the address into the GPS, Damen took a quick glance at the sidewalk from time to time. It startled him to see people mostly as they always were. Nothing seemed out of order, not at first sight at least, other than cars and other vehicles hurriedly moving aside to make way for Spectrum agents speeding on signal. Whatever caused chaos at the HQ must have left the city mostly unharmed, Damen figured. Though random calls from to the field - many, judging by five other agents’ cars which passed them just mere seconds ago - were worrying, the warrior would rather deal with them than have Marlas be at the same state as their homebase. 

A quick look to the side provided him with the sight of a very tense Laurent. The scientist grabbed guns and basic scientists’ toolkit while Damen was starting the car and now he sat in the passenger seat, every muscle in his body strained, jaw clenched tightly. 

Aimeric remained silent in the backseat, most likely just as tense as his friend.

The GPS signaled a change of direction and Damen turned right, only to see smoke emerging from behind the buildings ahead. 

He pressed the gas pedal.

“What the fuck happened here?” Aimeric cursed under his breath.

Like a large number of buildings in this district, this building was also built partly of wood to save on materials. Currently, the charred wooden elements were sagging under the weight of heavier stone and metal parts, blackened with fire. In one place the roof slid down, a smoking pillar a few meters away.

The only thing untouched by the fire was the board with the name of the orphanage by the road.

As soon as the car stopped on the driveway, the three agents jumped out.

“Be careful, it looks like the building could collapse any minute,” Aimeric said and the three went inside.

Damen wished they stayed outside.

The coppery, slightly sweet smell of burnt flesh entered his nostrils and Damen covered his mouth with his hand, fighting the gag reflex. He shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself. It wasn’t the time to back away. 

Every step further into the orphanage felt like another second of a nightmare. The warrior tried his best not to look at the small bodies scattered on the floor for too long. He moved from one room to another, taking his steps carefully, mindful that the floor would break under his weight at any moment.

At some point the three agents split to search the building faster. The smell intensified deeper in the house, worsened by the smoke. Damen noticed an open window and walked closer, in hope a few breaths of fresh air could make his head clear again.

Cool air filled his lungs. He closed his eyes for a moment and silently cursed whoever was responsible for it.

He was about to move away from the window and resume his search when he heard a soft, muffled sound. He looked down. There was a small silhouette in the grass, which, unlike the bodies inside, was red and trembled slightly.

“AIMERIC!” Damen bellowed. He jumped out of the window and carefully reached for the child, “You’re alright, you’re safe,” he spoke softly as he picked them up. Having the child safe in his arms, he yelled towards the house, “I have one alive! Come to the car!”

This was the fastest he has ever ran since he started the rigorous warrior training at the age of sixteen, when he had joined The Academy. 

Both Aimeric and Laurent must have heard him, because they sprinted out of the burnt house mere seconds after Damen reached the car. He passed the child to the medic as soon as the man jumped on the backseat and shut the door behind them. Then, he got inside the car and Laurent pressed the gas pedal and drove them to the nearest hospital at the vehicle’s full speed. 

“You haven’t found anyone else?”

The blond only shook his head and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. For the rest of the way nobody spoke, save for Aimeric muttering a few soft comforting words to the hurt child beside him.

Laurent stopped the car as close to the hospital’s entrance as possible. There was already a team waiting for them, Damen made a call the second they were on the road.

They secured the child on the stretcher and hurried inside with the doctors. As they approached the intensive care unit, Aimeric turned and said, "I'll go with them and make sure the child is all right."

The other two agents watched them disappear behind the door. Damen stood still for a few beats, the quiet around suddenly foreign and strange. He felt out of place.

What monster would burn down an orphanage? Kill so many people, so many innocent children? And why?

He glanced down at the hands in which he carried the burnt and barely alive child. Damen always thought himself to be strong and capable, but now for some reason he… didn’t.

The warrior moved his eyes to the man beside him. Laurent seemed as frozen as he felt.

The blond’s hands were shaking barely noticeably.

Damen reached out and gently brushed the man's fingers. Laurent looked up. Blue eyes expressed as much hopelessness as his own.

The blond lightly squeezed Damen's hand and for a moment neither of them felt so painfully alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vague description of burnt bodies at the end of the chapter  
> (I swear I won't hurt any more children in this story... probably. I don't plan to xD)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Happy New Year, everyone! I hope this year will be better for all of us :)  
> To celebrate leaving 2020 behind us, NO DEATHS TODAY XDD  
> I hope you like this update <3

It felt as if everything stopped.

Or, rather, as if the world around kept going, chasing after some goal, unimaginable for its inhabitants, not caring whether everyone could or couldn’t keep up. Life did not slow down, if anything it accelerated, leaving Laurent behind. Stuck and frozen in one place. 

He was moving. Taking one step after another, almost on autopilot. Not entirely, because he knew what he was doing and what was expected of him in this particular situation. Contact the HQ. Tell whoever answered the phone what had happened and what was currently going on. Check in on the child, though not personally but via Aimeric, as his best friend was still the only Spectrum agent allowed behind the glass door. Leave the hospital and go back to the HQ. File the report. Find out what the fuck had happened before they left to the orphanage.

As he was slowly ticking off these boxes, Laurent had the impression of being a mere observer. There was him and there was the rest of the world, existing in the same space but not entirely, not together but separate, next to one another. It was like watching a snowstorm - you knew it was cold and wet and unpleasant outside but you didn’t experience it, tucked away safely behind the window, in a comfortable warm bubble.

Laurent was moving but it was as if everything around him progressed without him.

After ending the call with Aimeric, Damen led them out of the hospital. Only when they separated to get inside the car, did Laurent realize the other man held his hand the entire time. He rubbed the skin of his palm. It was warm from Damen’s hold and without the larger hand providing extra heat, the air seemed much colder to this particular area of his body.

The city seemed normal and odd at the same time. Laurent focused on the buildings and people around and ignored the warrior next to him. His friend probably wanted to say something, Laurent could tell by the way Damen moved in his seat from time to time. 

He closed his eyes instead. A conversation was the furthest thing from Laurent’s mind at the moment. As much as he appreciated Damen’s concern from earlier in the morning, the scientist wasn’t in the mood for another “you’re allowed to have feelings” talk.

Because Damen wasn’t exactly right when he said that. Had this been any other person then yes, this statement would have been fitting. Not for Laurent.

People like him were supposed to focus and get their job done. There was no room for feelings or traumas during working hours. Only after signing off and retiring in one’s quarters could they allow themselves any weakness a human being could possibly desire.

Not that Laurent would ever do that. For him working hours never really ended.

A touch of a big, warm hand on his shoulder pulled him out of thoughts.

“We’re here,” Damen said.

They have, indeed, arrived at the underground parking. Laurent unbuckled the seatbelt and opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

He looked behind his shoulder at the larger man who hurried out of the car.

“I want to know what happened before we drove out,” the blond replied and headed towards the entrance, “Don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Damen said after a beat. He caught up with Laurent and put the car keys back as they walked by the security, “Do you have any ideas?”

He did, even a few. Some were less likely, for example a rebel group suddenly acquiring more than two brain cells and sending them a virus to mess with Spectrum. Or some agent making a mistake, the system malfunctioning on its own, which would be his first choice had it not been for the magnitude of the whole turmoil. 

His first choice, however, was slightly different.

“The safest bet would be a hacker.” Laurent said, as they strode down the corridor. There weren’t as many people around as when they left the HQ some time ago, and people who happened to walk past them looked as if they hadn't slept in days. Laurent could relate, he felt the same. 

“A hacker?” Damianos’ voice was heavy with disbelief and surprise, “Who would be bold enough to hack a Spectrum facility?”

“That’s what I hope we can find out.”

As the two men headed upstairs - once again using stairs instead of the elevators, Laurent didn’t trust the machinery so soon after such a severe system malfunction - they couldn’t help but notice how empty the corridors seemed. Cold sweat ran down the scientist’s spine. It was never this empty at the HQ. Never. Not even in the middle of the night, when most of the agents have already retired to their quarters and only the necessary staff remained.

Now, it felt almost desolated. It creeped Laurent out.

The blond picked up the pace. He wanted to get to the main scientists’ office as soon as possible. He could hear Damen’s steps as the older man followed him. For a split second it took him aback. It was a logical thing to do for Damen to head towards his own office, maybe even Makedon’s, considering that’s where the heads of the three departments were supposed to be in this kind of situation. But then, Damianos was a smart man, Laurent had to admit despite the unfortunate first impression he had made on the blond scientist. The team leader must have known the best place to get any update would be the scientists’ office.

The door opened and Laurent stormed inside.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Revere faced the youngest scientist, hunched over the computer with a scowl on his face.

“I got called to a burned down orphanage.”

The brown eyebrows shot up, “An orphanage. Burned down.”

“Yes.”

Nicaise swallowed barely noticeably. “And the kids?”

“Dead,” he felt a painful pang in his chest at the disturbing images which flashed before his eyes, “All but one. We drove the kid to the closest hospital. Aimeric stayed there.”

The younger man nodded and visibly struggled to turn back to the screen in front of him. The muscles of his jaw were tense, and so were his shoulders. Nicaise rarely let other people see something other than sarcasm in him, at least to Laurent’s knowledge. It was a new piece of information and one he was glad to discover. Nicaise didn’t like children getting hurt. Good to know. It made Laurent appreciate the younger more.

“It was a hacker, wasn’t it?”

“I’m looking into it,” Nicaise grimaced, “but everything points to it.”

Laurent stood behind Nicaise’s chair and observed his colleague typing furiously. The blond wasn’t entirely ignorant, he knew what Nicaise was doing, but he didn’t interfere. This was not his area of expertise. He knew the basics but when it came to the computers, he preferred writing programs than hacking.

Luckily, Marlas had Nicaise who apparently enjoyed it very much.

In the corner of his eye Laurent saw Damen silently lowering himself on the closest chair. He appreciated the man’s silence. It wouldn’t do any good to rush Nicaise at this moment.

After a long time, Nicaise’s head shot up.

“I’ve found the IP address.”

Laurent hovered over his shoulders and studied the seemingly endless rows of letters and numbers on the screen, “Can you get the location?”

“Just a second.”

Nicaise bit his lip as he typed, even faster than before, new determination obvious in his expression.

If he managed to find the exact location of the hacker’s computer, they could send a team, arrest and question them. Maybe then they would find out what this whole mess was about. The one from today and also yesterday's rebel attack. Laurent had a gut feeling these two were connected, he just didn’t know how or why they took place. Perhaps the hacker’s interrogation would fix some of Laurent’s mistakes. This time he would personally make sure there were no poison pills in the fucker’s mouth…

“Got it!” Nicaise turned to look at Laurent, who leaned closer and blanched at the place’s name.

“Are you sure?” he threw the younger scientist a sharp look, “Are you absolutely sure this is the right address?”

Nicaise nodded. Damen stood up.

“What is it? Laurent?”

The blond straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, parting the sticky with sweat strands with his fingers.

If what Nicaise found was true… They were all in big trouble.

***

Clenched fists rested on Laurent’s lap, nails dug into the skin of his palm, nearly drawing blood. But he felt no pain, or at the very least he paid it no mind, too focused on suppressing the urge to scream.

They sat in the conference room. Everyone who held an important position in Marlas HQ was there - Auguste, Damianos and Nikandros from the Warriors; Jokaste, Nicaise and himself from the Scientists; the Healers were represented by only Isander, as Aimeric still hadn’t come back from the hospital. Laurent made a mental note to call his best friend as soon as possible to get an update on the child’s wellbeing.

But there was no time to dwell on his friends, neither present in the room nor absent ones. Laurent had his gaze fixed on the head of the HQ and with every passing second he grew more and more frustrated. The blond liked Makedon, he really did, but right now he wanted to strangle the man.

Makedon sat at the head of the table. The man’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed and the thick fingers caressed his beard thoughtlessly. The room remained silent, everyone inside waiting patiently for their boss to speak first and give out the orders.

Just when Laurent was about to say they’re wasting time, Makedon straightened in his chair and cleared his throat.

“I have never, in my whole career at Spectrum, experienced so much fuckery.” The oldest man’s eyes were hard like a rock, “And I’ve been an agent for thirty years. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit before and after I took over the reigns at Marlas and let me tell you all, none of those came even remotely close to this.” He gestured around himself.

“There was a coordinated attack on civils, a rebel leader commiting suicide in the interrogation room,” with every incident Makedon listed the air in the conference room became more and more tense, “and a bunch of random emergency calls while half of our systems went down.” The man paused and looked every person sitting at the table straight in the eyes before continuing, “I hope some of you have answers for me before heads start rolling.” 

Laurent waited a beat or two but then he reminded himself this wasn’t some irrelevant observation which could wait for after important things had been discussed. 

“I don’t know the reason behind the interventions or the rebels,” he spoke and every head turned in his direction, “but we have an idea of what might have happened with our system.”

“Well? What is it?”

Nicaise moved in his chair by Laurent’s side and laid a tablet on the table.

“It was a hacker,” The younger scientist said, “I traced the IP signal. At first I just wanted to check what kind of damage was done - there’s no permanent damage, by the way - but then I started looking for the source.”

Makedon motioned at him to hurry up and Laurent could see how despite the serious situation, Nicaise had to hold back an eye roll.

“I’ve found the source and, uh, you’re not going to like it. This one certainly didn’t.” Nicaise jerked his head at Laurent.

Auguste furrowed his eyebrows at that. “Why?”

“Because the signal came from Chastillon.”

The older Revere sighed heavily. “Laurent…”

“What’s in Chastillon?”

“Our uncle lives there,” Auguste explained and turned to his brother, “Tell me you don’t think uncle Reginald had something to do with…”

“I don’t know what to think,” Laurent snapped, he wasn’t in the mood for Auguste’s patronizing tone, “The only thing I know is that the IP signal came from his location. And it’s not like he’s not able to do something like this, especially knowing the system inside out.”

Makedon’s eyes went back and forth between the golden haired brothers, observing their argument closely. Finally, the boss interrupted them.

“This is a serious accusation, dear boy.” Makedon said. Then, he added, “Though I can’t see why a respected professor would hack into our system, I think it’s a matter worth considering.” The man reached for the keyboard and pressed a few buttons, turning on the hologram. “Let’s call Arles HQ and hear what they have to say to that. Maybe they could point us towards other suspects.” 

Laurent suppressed the urge to close his eyes in frustration. He knew exactly what contacting his former workplace entailed and he did not look forward to it.

He also couldn’t just leave the room. It would be cowardly and childish, especially after being the one who caused them calling Arles. And Auguste would bitch about it forever if Laurent bolted just to avoid seeing their father’s face on the screen.

It wasn’t that the younger Revere hated his father. Laurent did not hate Aleron, it’s just that their relationship has always been… not great and Laurent would prefer to keep their contact to a minimum, if possible.

The hologram flashed and within a few seconds and then Aleron and Hennike Revere appeared above the table. The woman flashed a small smile at the sight of her sons but remained silent, while her husband greeted Makedon. Aleron did not acknowledge neither Laurent nor Auguste, but they were in a professional setting so neither of the brothers really expected anything from him.

The room remained silent as Makedon briefed Aleron on what has been happening in the last several weeks. Revere’s expression was focused and strict as he listened to their boss. By the way the frown on his face gradually deepened, Laurent could tell his father was concerned with what he was being told.

“We have encountered similar attacks up in the north,” Aleron said after a while, “At the beginning we thought it was as usual, there are more rebel attacks right before winter in our region, but from what you’re saying it might be more than that.”

Makedon agreed, “There has also been a joint attack on civilians recently.”

Aleron’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “How many?”

“Around fifty rebels. The target was a shopping district.” Makedon grimaced at the memory of that day and probably what had happened later. “Considering the number of raids has increased both here and in the north, I recommend caution. Something is happening in the underground and I don’t like it.”

“I will contact Ios HQ today. At first I thought it to be just an ordinary seasonal increase in raids, but now this seems like the beginning of a nationwide operation and I want to crush it before it spreads.”

Laurent’s stomach clenched. He suspected the rebels began teaming up against them after being told a few times about continuous attacks. It was true that as winter approached, the raids tended to happen more often than during any other season. As the weather turned colder each day, some frustrated poorer people, who usually didn’t care that much about this continuous conflict, would join the rebels just to steal something useful for the winter months. It was bothersome but Laurent couldn’t really blame these people. They mostly didn’t support these attacks, they just went along from time to time and took advantage to steal something which could help their families.

“There’s more,” Makedon cleared his throat and glanced briefly in Laurent’s direction, “We’ve had an incident today.”

“An incident?”

“Numerous calls from the city to random places, mostly for cases that should not go to us, but to municipal services. At the same time in HQ most of our systems went down.”

Aleron remained silent for a few seconds, while Hennike behind him frowned, clearly disturbed by what she just heard.

“Nothing like this happened in or around Arles,” Aleron replied, “at least not to my knowledge. Do you have any idea what could have happened?”

Makedon turned in their direction and nodded at Nicaise, who connected his tablet to the computer, so that the head of Arles HQ could also see the results of hours of hard work.

“We’ve been hacked,” Nicaise didn't beat around the bush, “Someone has breached our defenses and sent a nasty virus to the main server. There’s no permanent damage done but it was a pain in the ass to get rid of it.”

Aleron opened his mouth to say something but Nicaise wasn’t finished.

“I managed to track the signal back to its source, which turned out to be in Chastillon.”

Laurent observed his father’s face closely. Aleron seemed to be deep in thought, the creases on the man’s forehead deepened. He wasn’t speaking for a while, nor was his mother who now looked utterly confused with Nicaice’s discovery. Laurent could relate, it still did not make much sense to him why the signal would come from the town his uncle lived in.

However ridiculous the idea was, Laurent was unable to completely brush it off. He wasn’t one to trust a gut feeling with zero questions asked, but he couldn’t get rid of the uneasy feeling he had every time he tried to think of the uncle in this context. There was something that kept telling him it was not to be ignored. As unlikely as this scenario was, it wasn’t completely impossible.

Apparently Aleron did not share his youngest son’s concerns.

“I can look into it but personally I think it must be a mistake,” the older Revere said, his voice without an ounce of doubt, “I have no knowledge of anyone from Chastillon who could mean us harm.”

“It could be an inside job.”

All heads turned to face him, both those in the room and the holograms of his parents. The digital version of his father’s face twisted in a scowl.

“I had hoped you would let go of that childish behavior in Marlas,” Aleron’s hologram fixed Laurent with a disapproving glare, “This flimsy rivalry you created in your own head is one thing, but accusing your own uncle of committing a crime is not something I ever though you would be capable of.”

The blond’s hand twitched on his lap but he forced them to stay still, ignoring how the sweat gathered on his palms. He was painfully aware of several pairs of eyes boring into him, heart beating forcefully against his ribs, and Laurent was suddenly very glad he had left his hair loose, for it covered the flush spreading from the back of his neck to ears.

Years of practicing self control allowed him to speak in a steady, confident voice.

“I’m not accusing anyone,” the blond scientist disagreed, “I’m just saying this is a serious situation and we cannot limit ourselves to seeking the culprit among outsiders only. We can’t afford to rule out the possibility of some agent turning against us. And that means screening anyone--”

“Absolutely not!” Aleron fumed and in the corner of his eye Laurent could see Auguste shifting nervously in his seat, “I know you like to think you’re smarter than everyone around you, Laurent, but I am older than you, I have been working longer than you are alive and I will not tolerate such behavior and slander! Reginald isn’t even there at the moment, he went on an international tour, and yet he’s being accused for a crime he so clearly isn’t guilty for!”

The muscles in his jaw hurt from how hard he clenched his teeth. It was tempting to let all the words buzzing in his mind to just roll over his tongue but Laurent wasn’t going to worsen this already humiliating situation. So he kept his mouth shut, glared daggers at his father's hologram and refused to look at any of the agents still present in the conference room. He could feel how their eyes bore into him and it made his skin crawl.

“If I may,” Jokaste’s soft but confident voice filled the room and temporarily focused the attention on the woman, “I do agree there is a possibility of an agent or several agents being involved. However, I think we can rule out everyone stationed in Chastillon. Someone who managed to hack into one of the biggest Spectrum facilities wouldn’t be so careless to leave a trail leading straight to them.”

Aleron nodded, visibly satisfied, “I agree. This is clearly an attempt to divert our attention and put the blame on someone innocent,” the man glared one last time at his youngest son and then added, “Please send us the full report from the hacker’s attack, I’ll have our science team track the signal once again. Maybe they can find the true location.”

After the meeting came to an end, Laurent stood from his chair and he was about to step away from the table when a hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him mid step.

“Laurent…” Auguste swallowed and the older brother looked anywhere but Laurent’s eyes, “about what dad said…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut his brother off and the warrior’s eyes snapped up at the coldness in his voice, finally meeting the other one’s gaze. Laurent hadn’t used this tone on Auguste in many years, more than either of them could recall.

The pained expression on Auguste’s face almost softened the scientist. Almost.

“Laurent, please,” he begged, “I’m sure it wasn’t about you, I.. you’d be angry too, had anyone accused me of something so serious without evidence. I know I would be mad if you were accused. You can’t blame dad for protecting his own brother.”

The smaller man shook the hand off of his shoulder and took a few steps back.

“If it was me in that location,” Laurent said slowly, letting the words truly sink in his brother’s mind, “I would be the first one under investigation. Both father and uncle would insist, if only to save the family’s reputation.”

He didn’t wait for Auguste’s response and simply walked out of the room.

***

Larent made a conscious effort to not pick up the pace as he walked away from the conference room. It was bad enough that several people stared at him. Providing them with evidence of the emotional turmoil in his head was not an option, not after his father publicly shamed him for trying to be thorough. There was no way he was going to let them think he was bothered.

Laurent wasn’t bothered.

He didn’t care what Aleron thought of him.

The door to the staircase slammed shut behind him. Even though Nicaise and other scientists had already fixed the system and the elevators were safe, Laurent still chose the stairs. The staircase was empty, so he ran downstairs, gripping the railing as hard as possible. By the time he reached the bottom floor, the heart hammered against his ribs and he was slightly out of breath.

The workshop was the last place he wanted to be right now, as it was most likely swarmed with a horde of scientists of all ranks. The office would be a close second. No, he needed to be by himself, preferably with a gun and something he could shoot at. However, he had left a few things in the workshop earlier. Laurent ran a hand through his hair. Damn it.

Hurrying to get it over with, he headed towards the workshop. As he suspected, the room was full of agents, some of whom were really working, but most were indulging in gossip. The blond quickly grabbed everything he needed to work and turned back to the exit. Before he could open the door, for the second time in half an hour a hand on his arm stopped him.

“There you are,” Torveld smiled at him broadly, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Have you,” Laurent muttered.

The hand slipped from his arm when he took a step back but the older scientist didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes. It’s been quite a mayhem this morning, I thought maybe I could offer to help.”

Laurent fought off the urge to punch the man in the face for talking with such a light tone and a smile about what took place a few hours earlier.

“I’m sure there are many people who could use your assistance,” he said instead, hoping Torveld would get the hint this time and leave him alone.

He didn’t.

“This morning has been hard on you, are you sure you don’t want me to help you with these?” The Patran motioned towards the files in Laurent’s arms.

“My work is outside your area of expertise.”

Torveld seemed a bit thrown off by the sudden coldness in Laurent’s voice but he managed to keep the smile on his face, though now slightly unsure.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “you do look tired anyways. Maybe I could buy you dinner?”

Revere closed his eyes briefly. It would do him no good if he started yelling at Torveld in a room full of people. Especially not now, when every person in a position of power in Marlas HQ most likely thought him to be an entitled bitch making up conspiracy theories.

Besides, Laurent was exhausted. Too exhausted to argue with Torveld. Usually he’d find some clever way to verbally chop off his balls and later take pleasure in watching him squirm, but not today. He just wanted to lock himself in his quarters and not see anyone for a week.

“As you noticed, I’m tired. And not in a mood for dinner,” Laurent continued before the other man could interrupt him, “To be honest, I have too many responsibilities to make new friends right now. Or anytime soon.”

He watched Torveld’s face fall at the word ‘friends’. The Patran shifted his weight from one leg to another, air between them suddenly awkward.

“I see,” Torveld stepped back and the earlier smile was replaced by a grimace, “I won’t bother you anymore.”

_ Thank fuck _ , Laurent thought, finally stepping outside. He leaned against the nearest wall and exhaled slowly. How a short conversation with Torveld managed to wear him off so much, he couldn’t comprehend, but it did and he was grateful for the lack of people in the corridor. He needed a moment to muster the strength to move.

“That’s one way to reject someone.”

Laurent jumped in his place and turned to see Damianos standing next to him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” the warrior shrugged and then pushed away from the wall, saying, “He did have a point about the food though. Come on.”

Laurent had no other option but to follow him.

To his surprise, Damen headed not towards the cafeteria but in the opposite direction. Despite the overall lack of energy, curiosity took over. This part of the building was new to him. He walked faster.

“Where are we going?”

“Here.” 

Damen stopped before the thick glass door and smiled at him. Then he pressed the button and the door opened. Warm, humid air caressed the blond’s face as he slowly walked inside, stunned.

The warrior laughed behind him and elbowed Laurent on the side, “I knew you’d like the greenhouse.”

The space was enormous. The only room that was as large Laurent could recall was the gym hall, where the Academy had held the final exam a few weeks ago. Everywhere he looked, there were trees, shrubs, flowers, herbs and other plants which Laurent couldn't recognize. The air smelled sweet, but not enough to cause a headache after a shorter amount of time. It was a sight so out of touch with reality. So much vegetation could only be observed in the government-protected regions, everywhere else the landscape was filled with buildings, glass and concrete.

Here and there, Laurent could spot countless wires and pipes around the room.

Damen led him to a table hidden between two bigger trees.

“I like to come to the greenhouse to clear my mind,” the man said, taking out several lunch boxes from somewhere behind him, “I thought you could use some solitude today.”

“It’s not really solitude with you here,” Damen looked up at him with a considerate expression.

“I can leave you alone if you want.”

Laurent didn’t say anything as he observed his companion closely. He had a hard time understanding why Damen would do this for him - show him this peaceful place, where apparently not many people wandered, and make sure he ate. 

After a few beats he shook his head and the warrior smiled. Laurent’s eyes flickered to the dimple for a split second.

“So,” Damen placed the food on the table, „I had wondered if you reserved your affection for women. I guess now I know,” seeing the obvious confusion on his friend’s face, he clarified, “I mean, that Torveld guy kept hitting on you and you basically told him he didn’t even deserve to be in the friendzone, so…”

“So you assumed I’m into women?” Laurent snorted, amused for the first time in twenty four hours, “I’m not, if you need to know. I just don’t like men who refuse to back off.”

The man just nodded. The silence filled the space between them as they ate their food. Laurent immediately recognized the contents of his lunch box. It was exactly what he had eaten during their last meal together.

The memory of that dinner made him lose the appetite.

Lowering the fork, he said, “About what I said before…”

Damen looked up from his own food and smiled in encouragement.

“I didn’t mean to… drop that on you, I…” Laurent swallowed nervously, “I really didn’t know.”

Damen also put down the fork and Laurent couldn’t look away from his brown eyes. The last thing he wanted was to make his newest friend hate him.

“It’s not your fault. Laurent,” Damen replied. A heavy sigh left his mouth, “It turns out Jokaste has been dating Kastor for over a year. At least that’s what my brother told me.”

“That sucks.”

Damen laughed. The sound lifted something heavy from Laurent’s heart, but didn’t stop him from worrying about Damianos. The man still looked hurt.

“Yeah, it does. But it doesn’t matter, we weren’t really a thing.”

They resumed eating in silence, taking comfort in the other one’s presence. Laurent spoke only once, when Aimeric texted him about the child’s condition. Everyone was relieved the boy was safe.

When the food was gone, Damen asked, “About your uncle… Do you really think he could be responsible?”

Laurent hid his face in his hands. He didn’t have the energy to pretend in front of Damen that he was fine.

“My dad had a point when he said uncle is too smart to get himself caught like this,” he said, pushing aside the memory of his father’s furious face and words, “I don’t know if he’s done it or not. I don’t want my own uncle to be the culprit, no matter how much I dislike him. But he’s smarter than any of us, he’s aware we know how smart he is and that we wouldn’t suspect him if the evidence led directly to him. That’s why I wanted Chastillon under investigation, but obviously nobody takes me seriously…”

“I do.”

Laurent lifted his head and met Damen’s determined gaze. He almost shivered at the heat in his eyes. The man looked at him as if… as if he saw him. Understood him.

“I believe you, Laurent,” Damen repeated decidedly, “Reginald rubbed me the wrong way when I met him. There was something odd about him. And what you’re saying makes sense. This is too important to just cross people out of the list of suspects.”

Laurent muttered a silent _ thank you _ but other than that, he didn’t know what to say. It didn’t even cross his mind that Damianos of all people would be the only person to not brush him off, not make him feel like a child in need of reprimand for a stupid mistake.

On the other hand, Damen kept surprising him over and over again since they dealt with the initial misunderstanding.

Like when he immediately decided they were friends.

When he stood up to Reginald for him, even though he didn’t have to.

Or earlier, when he reached out at the hospital and took Laurent’s hand in his, sharing his warmth and strength. The blond took a glance at these hands. They were big, strong and very warm. Laurent wondered what it would feel like if he intertwined their fingers right now. He pushed this thought away.

And apparently, the man wouldn’t stop with the surprises.

“By the way, your dad was such a dick to you today,” Damen grimaced, busy with putting away the empty lunch boxes. Laurent was glad, he could feel the blush on his cheeks, though Damen would probably believe him if he blamed the temperature in the greenhouse, “I get that he might’ve gotten mad but damn, saying all these things to you was unnecessary. And in front of your coworkers?!”

Laurent observed him with wide eyes. Nobody except for Aimeric has ever gotten so mad at Aleron for him. Nobody.

The warrior kept mumbling what he thought of Aleron and Laurent couldn’t help himself. He started laughing.

Damen’s gaze snapped up at him, startled and concerned, until he saw the blond covering his mouth with a hand and the mirth glistening in the blue eyes. 

He grinned, “You like when people call your dad a dick, huh?”

Laurent laughed harder.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry for the delay but the midterms are approaching and I'm low on motivation to do anything :<  
> To make up for the missed update, I'm giving you a nice chapter. No, there's no catch xD  
> I hope you enjoy <3 See you soon (as soon as I can)

It has been a week since ‘the fuckery of the century’, as Makedon kept labelling the infamous two days that left every single agent at Marlas HQ both physically and mentally drained. He would argue it couldn’t be the biggest mess of the century but maybe of the decade, but Damen had never been one to delve on history too much. Unless said history entailed learning about battle strategy then yes, he was more than interested.

Besides, war strategy was in the warriors’ curriculum at The Academy, but it was one of Damen’s favourite classes so he had never tried to avoid the topic.

The week had passed and people were slowly winding down. There were still some who were constantly on edge and would need more time to calm down. He tried to understand how these people felt and tried to help them as much as he could, by either training with them to relieve the stress (that would be Nikandros) or talking with them and keeping their company (Laurent actually, to his constant surprise, did not make it hard for him).

Out of the two of his friends, Laurent had better reasons to remain tense, at least in Damen’s mind. Nikandros was an impulsive man and tended to have no patience in the kind of situations where they had the solution to the problem but couldn’t use it because they didn’t know the root of said problem. Nik was frustrated because, technically, all they had to do was gather two dozen agents, make a team and have them arrest whoever was responsible and finally get it over and done with. For Laurent, on the other hand, this whole situation was not only a work related nightmare; it was personal. It was his own uncle, his family member who was at the source of the hacker’s cyber trail. The blond scientist might not like the man, but they were still a family and Damen knew it would be hard had it been him, so it probably was difficult for Laurent as well. 

Despite Aleron Revere’s unwavering belief in his brother and Makedon’s reluctance to put professor Reginald under the investigation, Damen had to agree with Laurent. Too many people had been hurt recently to not check their own backyard for a snake. Especially after the hacker. Only someone extremely talented could’ve hacked a major Spectrum facility and the possibility of someone so gifted not being a part of their ranks was not high.

Thinking of Laurent’s family reminded him of his own. Damen grimaced and squeezed the weapon he has been cleaning. He didn’t know what upset him more - Kastor making himself scarce for most of the time, which would cause Damen to believe his older brother was avoiding him, had it not been for the amount of work dumped on everyone’s heads - or the fact that Jokaste wouldn’t talk to him. If anything, he deserved an explanation.

Damen lowered the now polished and shiny weapon and glanced at the digital clock. Kastor was leaving for Ios soon and he wanted to say goodbye to him. Who knew when would be the next time they saw each other? Damen didn’t want to waste more time with his big brother.

The gun safely put back where it belonged, the warrior left the armory and headed to the parking. Several people tried to stop him for a quick chat but he waved them off with a polite smile and a brief apology. A week ago he would have no doubt his brother would wait for him to say goodbye. Now he wasn’t so sure.

The door opened and he stepped into the parking. After a few seconds, Damen exhaled, only then realising he must’ve held his breath. He walked up to his brother, smiling.

“I was hoping to catch you before you left,” Damen said.

Kastor threw a bag in the trunk and turned around.

“You almost missed me, little bro,” the older man smiled and drew him into a brief hug, slapping Damen’s back goodheartedly, “I was going to leave in a few minutes for the airport.”

The younger warrior raised his eyebrows. It wasn’t like it didn’t cross his mind as he walked downstairs but he still was reluctant to believe his brother would leave just like that.

“Without saying goodbye to me?”

“I was about to call you when you walked in.”

Damen simply nodded, unwilling to argue. It was Kastor, after all. It wasn’t unlike him to just hop on the teleport and call from Ios to say goodbye. It had happened before. Nothing new.

He ignored the pang in his chest and laughed, “I still can’t understand why they won’t put a teleport here. Nobody would have to go to the airport.” 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was, in fact, a teleport in every Spectrum facility but it was used only as an emergency exit. And sometimes to deliver packages, but that was beside the point. Had the Spectrum teleport been open to the use of workers, Kastor would not have to hurry to get to the airport on time without saying goodbye.

“Costs, brother.”

Damen’s response was cut short when they heard the clatter of high-heeled shoes clacking on the concrete floor. The brothers turned around to see Jokaste heading towards them in all her cold, unhuman glory. She looked perfect as always, her blonde hair put in a tight bun at the top of her head, the white scientist’s gown unbuttoned and fluttering behind her like a cloak.

The woman barely acknowledged Damianos, only a short nod in his direction, and stopped by Kastor’s side.

“Wanted to leave without a goodbye?”

The man wound his arm around her waist and drew her closer to kiss her cheek, “I would never,” he murmured softly against the fair skin.

Jokaste hummed, “I hope so.”

Kastor pecked her cheek again and took half a step back, still holding her close.

“What’s this?” the warrior gestured to the small box in the head scientist’s hands.

Damen’s gaze fell on the box. It was pretty. Small, made of wood and iron clasp, with colorful ornaments depicting flowers. Damen suspected that the box was made either in North Artes or in Patras. People from these areas had a thing for complicated ornaments.

It reminded him a bit of the jewelry box his mother once had. Damen bought them for her on a school trip to Marlas when he was ten. Egeria died six months later. It was the last gift she received from him.

“Just something to remember me by,” Jokaste replied and Kastor laughed deep in his chest. Damen has never heard him lower his voice like this.

“As if I could forget about you.”

The older Vallis took the box from the slender fingers and put it safely among his luggage. Jokaste wrapped her slim arms around Kastor’s neck and pressed a sweet kiss on the man’s lips. Damen looked away. He remembered Jokaste kissing him exactly like this after one of their dinner dates. There was still a lot of confusion and questions in Damen’s mind regarding Jokaste. He would’ve preferred to confront this situation head on with both of them, but to be honest, he hadn’t seen much of the woman in the last several days. The warrior was aware of the amount of work that had been dumped on her departament recently and he understood she was busy. However, if Laurent who busted his ass off more than anyone in this damn building could find half an hour to sit with him every day, then Jokaste too should be able to find a minute to have this conversation. Damen knew he deserved at least an explanation.

Kastor threw the last bag to the trunk and shut it close.

“Alright,” he said, “Time to go. Bye, baby,” Kastor kissed Jokaste one last time, passionately enough for Damen to feel as if he were intruding, then he hugged Damen and told him to take care and call if he ever needed something.

And then Kastor was gone and Damen was left with Jokaste in the underground parking.

The woman turned around on the heel but stopped when Damen caught her lightly by the elbow. It was now or never, if they didn’t talk now they probably would never mention it again.

“Jokaste, can we talk?”

“About?” she fixed him with a cold, indifferent gaze, one Damen hasn’t seen in a while.

“Kastor told me you’ve been dating.”

“For a year, yes.”

He ran his fingers through the hair, “Why did you go out with me then? Several times.”

Jokaste sighed exasperatedly and said, “I just wanted to get to know my boyfriend’s brother. Kastor talked about you a lot, so I thought spending some time together was the right thing to do. I hoped we could become friends. I’m sorry you took it the wrong way.”

“Do you kiss everyone you want to befriend on the lips after dinner dates?”

The woman patted Damen’s forearm and smiled at him, as if he was a kid who didn’t realize how wrong he was. 

It was funny how quickly one’s feelings could change in such a short period of time. Only a few weeks ago going out with this woman seemed like a dream come true. He remembered how beautiful Jokaste looked in that old fashioned restaurant and how excited he was when he saw her wearing the red dress.

If asked, he wouldn’t be able to tell what exactly changed over the past month and why Jokaste took less and less place in his thoughts.

Whatever the reason, somehow her seeing someone else didn’t hurt him as much as the fact that she had lied to him and, it was safe to assume, also to Kastor. Though they must’ve talked, otherwise his brother wouldn’t be so affectionate towards her.

Damen wanted to scream. He hated being lied to. 

***  


Frustration and exhaustion were slowly but surely taking over Damen. The man became more annoyed every time he caught himself not being able to focus on a report he’s been trying to read for the past hour. Eventually, he did as much as he could and rose from the desk. Damen was lucky; there was nobody else in the warriors’ office this day to bother him or point out how unfocused he was. 

He made his way to the gym. Exercise usually was unfailing when it came to clearing his mind, so the gym was one of the places where Damen would frequent when he was stressed or angry or simply needed a break.

Apparently, this time the usual coping mechanism wasn’t enough. Three hours of intensive workout and Damen’s gym outfit was drenched in sweat, dark locks of hair flat against his temples, heart racing furiously… But head was still occupied by the few minutes he spent next to his brother’s car. Damen clenched his fist and struck the punching bag so hard that if it weren’t for the iron hook, it would’ve landed on the wall a few meters further. 

After repeating the move a few more times, Damen finally gave up on the exercise.

He decided to take a long, hot shower. Having undressed and placed the clothes on the shelf, the warrior stepped into the cabin. He stood there for a minute with closed eyes. relishing in the sensation of water flowing down his face and body. As the temperature increased, the knots in the muscles untied one by one. Only then did he realise how tense he had been. The burning sensation in his limbs made Damen frown. He might have gone a little bit overboard at the gym. Some of the frustration he managed to release during his assault on the punching bag came back like a boomerang, knocking him off of the feet with a blow right to the head. Damen rubbed the shampoo in his hair, forcefully tugging at the damp locks. Then after washing the sweat off of his skin, he stood under the shower, consciously relaxing every muscle. It wouldn’t do any good to his body if it stayed so tense for the entire day. However, the warrior was more than aware that most of the tension was not because of the extreme training from before. No, this time the source was in his own mind.

Or, rather, thoughts people and events around him put in his head.

As he dried himself with a towel and put on clean clothes, Damen realized he needed to get away for a while. Now.

Fortunately for him, he had set up a decent escape route from the HQ a long time ago. The warrior straightened, new determination taking the reins.

He could afford a day off, so why the hell not go away for a few hours?

But before, he needed to pay a visit to the scientists’ workshop.

The way to the workshop was so familiar, it felt as if his feet took him there on their own, following a path that seemed burned into his mind. A trip there had been a conscious decision not that long ago. To be fair, Damianos used to visit that place once a month, maybe twice if he had a weapon in need of a scientist’s keen eye and steady hand. 

Then he met Laurent, befriended him and in recent weeks he’s been there almost every evening, in awe of how easy it was to completely immerse himself in the conversation with the younger man.

For the first time in a month he entered the scientists’ workshop and didn’t immediately look for the golden palm tree. A small chuckle escaped from his lips at the memory of it. Every time he saw Laurent tie half of his hair in a ponytail he couldn’t help but make a palm tree joke, which always managed to get the man blush in annoyance. It wasn’t Damen’s fault it was so much fun to make him blush like this.

Due to the relatively early hour, there were plenty of scientists working at the tables and browsing through the cabinets. But no sight of Laurent. Damen knew he wouldn’t be here, it was too early for the blond to go down to the workshop, especially with so many people around. The warrior exchanged a short hello with several of them who noticed him. He made his way to the storage at the back of the room, opened the door and made his way to the very back.

Just when he was halfway there, a familiar voice called, “What are you doing?”

Damen turned around with a smile on his face. It was a pleasant surprise.

“I wanted to grab a few things.”

Laurent’s eyebrow shot upwards. He glanced behind Damen and then looked at him with a smirk, “From the garbage pile?”

“Yes.”

Damen grabbed a few empty boxes and reached to the drawers full of discarded runes and tech.

Laurent walked up to him and observed as he filled the boxes.

“If you need something just tell me,” the scientist picked up a dusty tablet. It was one of the older models, nobody at the HQ used them anymore, “I can get you the newest tech. You don’t have to come here and scavenge.” 

Damen laughed and took the device from the blond’s slender hand, noticing how cold his fingers were. 

He put the tablet in the box and began filling the next one, this time with runestones.

“I don’t need these things but thank you for offering, Laurent,” he smiled brightly at his friend. It was really nice of Laurent to immediately offer his help as soon as the possibility that Damen might need something crossed his mind. Their relationship truly improved, Laurent would have never done that in his first three weeks in Marlas.

Laurent’s eyes fell on the boxes again. He frowned, confused. Damen could see the cogs move inside the blond head.

“Then why are you taking them?” he asked, and then smirked mockingly, “Are you our new janitor?”

“You wish, you would order me around if I was,” Damen poked him jokingly between ribs and laughed when the younger jumped a bit and narrowed his eyes at him, “No, these are not for me. Actually,” he stopped and fixed Laurent with a considering look, which only confused the other man even more, “you could go with me.”

“Go where?”

“You’ll see.”

“Damen, I’m busy,” he sighed.

“You’re always busy,” Damen pointed out, “When was the last time you took a break? Lunch and sleep don’t count.”

Laurent stared at him for a few long seconds in silence. Then in a flat voice he asked, “You want to know the truth?”

The warrior shrugged, “Sure.”

“Before I joined The Academy.”

Damen frowned and did quick math. He gaped at the blond who seemed to think his reaction was amusing. He wanted to punch the man before him and then throw him in the teleport to Isthima, “But we go to The Academy at sixteen! That would be…”

“A bit over six years, yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“Not the worst insult I’ve heard, you need to make more effort if you want it to hurt, Vallis.”

Damen did not want to insult Laurent nor hurt him, he wanted to make sure the man rested and took care of himself. He knew Laurent didn’t care enough, otherwise his medic friend wouldn’t have to watch him during dinner so the idiot would eat healthy food. And more than a few bites.

“We’re taking a day off,” Damen announced decidedly and seeing his friend getting ready for a counter attack, added, “I won’t take no for an answer, Laurent. These last days were hard on both of us and we deserve to take one day off.”

There was a battle raging in the blond’s eyes. Damen’s first instinct was to say something that would convince him to take a break and slow down. He bit his own tongue instead. He already said what needed to be said, the rest was up to the scientist.

Laurent watched him fill the third box with discarded tech and runes. The man was clearly considering his options. Curiosity glistened in his eyes as they went back and forth between the boxes and Damen’s face.

Damen tapped his wristband and in a few seconds there was information about a day off in the system. When he looked up expectantly, Laurent sighed.

“Fine,” the slender fingers danced on his own wristband and seconds later he had a day off as well, “I’m as free as a fucking Artes One rocket. Now what?”

“Don’t joke about Artes One, it blew up.”

“Exactly,” Laurent pointed out, “it blew up and put the poor astronauts who were supposed to fly in it out of their misery.”

As he taped the boxes shut, Damen threw Laurent an amused glance, “What do you have against a rocket from two hundred years ago?”

“It was ugly,” he deadpanned, “And don’t look at me this way, nobody died, I’m allowed to make fun of it.”

Damen liked Laurent making science related jokes - or any jokes for that matter - too much to discourage him in any way. So he chuckled instead and placed the lightest box in his arms.

“Alright, mister rocket scientist, take this and follow me.”

The blond fixed the box in his hold and followed Damen out of the workshop. Several pairs of eyes followed them. Most of them were used to Damen taking some things out every now and then but they were visibly surprised to see the cold Revere accompanying him.

“I’m not a rocket scientist.”

The warrior looked behind his shoulder and almost bursted laughing. Laurent’s expression was somewhere between revulsion and a pout. It was adorable.

“You never wanted to become one?” he asked, “Half of my friends who ended up in the science departament wanted to become rocket scientists and fly to orbit.”

“No,” the reply came instantly, “There are too many things to discover and problems to solve down here for me to waste my time looking at the sky.”

Damen led them to the parking, where they signed off, took the car keys and loaded the boxes into the vehicle. It wasn’t as nice as the ones agents usually used, which was exactly what Damen asked for.

Laurent took the passenger's seat and hummed thoughtfully, “First you scavenge in my workshop, now you take old cars,” he glanced at the older man with mirth in his eyes, “Are you sure you’re ok? Are you going through a midlife crisis?”

Damen barked a laugh, “I’m twenty seven, Laurent, it’s too soon for a midlife crisis, don’t you think?”

“No.”

He glanced at the blond beside him and a smile on his face only broadened at the sight of Laurent’s smirk. 

Damen drove them out of the HQ. I was barely past midday. The sun was still high in the sky, though he knew it would set earlier as it was almost winter. The city seemed less psychedelic during the day, the sunlight toning down the everpresent blinking neon signs. Laurent commented on the nice view as they went down one of the main roads leading to the outer areas of the city, one road above their heads and another tens of meters underneath them. In the corner of the eye he could see the blond tilting his head to look at the road above them. Damen would think he was in awe but Laurent wasn’t like some of his friends from smaller cities and towns. He was born and raised in Arles, the most standoffish city in the Artes Republic.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?”

“Look ahead.”

Laurent did. Then he asked with a voice thick with confusion, “The slums?”

“The slums,” Damen nodded.

“Why?”

Damen turned right and left the highway behind them, entering a narrower road. It was still in a good condition but he knew that in several minutes the ride would become more bumpy.

It was clear when they crossed the invisible line between rich and poor sides of Marlas.

The rich side was colourful. full of tall buildings made of glass, which reflected the light from all of the neon signs and banners. There were cars and motorcycles, effortlessly moving above smooth roads, which for the most part lay flat but in central parts of the city rose above ground to make it easier to move around. Small planes or jets were not an unusual sight as well.

The poor side lacked all of these things. The only lights came from ordinary, older street lamps, illuminating everything around in soft golden light. Cars here were also worn out, aged with time, more often than not shouldn’t be driven anymore due to the vehicles’ condition. There were no skyscrapers, no glass offices, only concrete buildings often covered with elaborate colourful graffiti and slogans. The buildings were mostly no higher than ten floors. However, the streets were vibrant. As Damen drove into one of the main streets, he couldn’t help but compare it to a marketplace. There were lots of people exchanging goods and services.

He parked the car a bit on the side. One could never be too careful in the poorer areas of the city.

“The discarded devices and parts, runestones too,” Damen said, turning in his seat to look at Laurent, who already had his eyes on him, “I know they’re not broken. They’re either replaced by newer versions or had no use to us because we got too many in the delivery. These things just stay there, at the back of your workshop, and gather dust. Then after some time they’re thrown out. Fully functional tech and runestones, in the garbage. It’s a waste of resources, don’t you think?”

The scientist nodded slowly. He fixed his eyes on the people in the streets, walking around and trading. After a few beats, he spoke, “So you take things you know nobody will want to use anymore and bring them here?”

“Why, you don’t approve?”

The corner of Laurent’s mouth twitched, the movement drawing Damen’s eyes downwards. He has been in awe of what these lips were capable of since the day he had met Laurent, even when he disliked the man. The way they formed the most hurtful words, piercing through where it hurt the most, and in the next second soothed the pain better than any salve… These lips could both curse and bless a man at the same time. Now though Damen noted how soft they looked, how their fullness contributed to the perfection of Laurent’s face and the way the pink of his mouth came out against his pale skin.

Damen wondered briefly how it would feel like to touch these lips.

“I do, actually,” Laurent’s reply brought back Damen’s attention. Luckily, the younger man didn’t seem to notice his friend staring at his mouth, “I wanted to set up a charity a while ago in Arles, so that every spare equipment would be donated to the least fortunate citizens.”

He could imagine Laurent giving supplies to those in need and warmth spread across his chest at the thought. Damen was sure Laurent would find a way to give them even more than originally intended.

“The board didn’t agree?”

“Not when I brought it up.”

They got out of the car and opened the trunk. Damen passed a box to Laurent, “What do you mean?”

“I mean the charity had been set up and is still very active as far as I know, thanks to my mother who had brought it up a month or so after I was refused.”

Damen frowned. It didn’t make any sense for the head of the institute to say no to Laurent only to agree to the same idea when presented by another person. 

“I don’t understand, why…” the blond sighed heavily and looked at him with exhaustion in his eyes.

“My father is the head of Arles HQ, Damianos.”

Oh. Now it made sense.

“Your dad is a dick,” he repeated his words from the greenhouse, “Charities are the best publicity for Spectrum. That he would throw such an opportunity away just to be contrary to you…”

“He would do almost anything to make me do what he wants.”

They locked the car and walked towards the main street, the other two boxes in Damen’s arms.

“Which is?”

“Lock myself in the office and work until I’m either the most successful scientist on the continent or die trying,” the blond shrugged.

Damen thought of the countless evenings when he spotted Laurent hunched over a stack of papers or a computer, going through photos of runes and translations. Since the man began working on the sorting program, he overworked himself slightly less. But even after Damen started forcing him to take breaks with him for lunch or simply to stop looking at holograms, the shadow under Laurent’s eyes didn’t disappear.

Now, after hearing the stories about Aleron Revere and meeting Reginald Revere in person, he knew why Laurent pushed himself so hard. His fingers tightened around the boxes’ edges.

“I want to punch your father and uncle,” he gritted his teeth in frustration.

Laurent looked up at him. Something soft flashed in the incredibly blue eyes before mirth took its place.

“Please don’t,” the blond man smirked, “I don’t want to make a habit of visiting my friends in jail.”

Damen led them to a familiar store. The owners knew him quite well by now. He’s been coming here with the spare parts every month for approximately two years and he made sure everything from Spectrum would be given for free to those in need. Damen explained it to Laurent when he saw confusion on his friend’s face at the warm welcome they were given by the owners. 

People quickly picked up on their presence and flocked into the store. The scientist took everything in stride and assisted as many people as he could.

They separated for a while, both busy helping people choose the best runestone or device. He threw a glance at Laurent from time to time, just to make sure the man was comfortable, but most of the time the blond was fixing something and activating runes.

Finally the store cleared and Damen could stretch stiff limbs. His eyes automatically went to look for a blond head. When they landed on him, Damen’s heart skipped a beat.

Laurent crouched down in front of a child. The boy observed him with wide eyes.

“Do you want to see a magic trick?”

The child nodded enthusiastically. Laurent took a small stone and showed it to him before closing his fingers around it. The boy blew into his fist and gasped, when Laurent opened his hand and the stone was gone.

“Where is it?” the kid took Laurent’s palm in his small hands, inspecting it closely, “What happened to it?”

“It disappeared,” Laurent reached behind the child’s ear and showed him the missing stone, “I’ve found it!”

The boy gaped, “How did you do it?!”

Laurent chuckled and gave him the stone, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

When the boy’s mother appeared and took her son home, Damen walked up to the scientist.

“Do you want to walk around?” he asked, and afraid Laurent would refuse, he added, “We missed lunch, we could grab something to eat.”

Laurent agreed and after saying their goodbyes to the owners, they stepped out of the store. There were a lot more people outside. After a few times Damen grew tired of constantly having to turn around to check if Laurent was still behind him. The warrior reached out and took Laurent’s hand in his.

Just so he wouldn’t lose him in the crowd, he reminded himself.

The scientist didn’t oppose and simply let Damen lead them. 

With every passing moment Damen was more and more aware of the golden presence by his side and cold hand in his grasp. He couldn’t help but steal a glance every minute or so. Another blonde head came to his mind.

It took several dates for Jokaste to let him hold her hand and even then she would move out of his reach after a moment of physical contact. Laurent not only held his hand at the hospital, but he didn’t move away right now, where it wasn’t necessary for them to touch each other in order to walk together anymore.

It was as if a dam broke in Damen’s mind, providing him with more comparison between the two scientists.

Jokaste barely talked to him for a few minutes outside of their dates, while Laurent and he met for half of their meal breaks and then had conversations for an hour or two almost every evening.

And it was so easy to talk to the younger man. After they had put aside the initial misunderstanding, the friendship came to them as easily as taking a breath. With Jokaste Damen had to do a mental exercise to say something worthy of her attention and a tiny, flirty smile.

The warrior looked down at the blond. He caught him staring this time and smiled. It was a small smile, barely a lift of the corner of his mouth, but it reached his eyes and Damen’s heart almost fell out of his chest.

They walked down the street in the middle of the slums and Damen wondered when just being next to Laurent and spending time together in silence with him became more exciting than dining with Jokaste in the best restaurants in Marlas.

“What is it?” Laurent asked when they stopped in front of a food truck.

Something in these blue eyes made it unable to lie. He was never a good liar anyways.

“I’m just happy you’re here with me.”

Laurent’s eyes searched his face. He must have found something, maybe in his eyes or the way Damen spoke, because the pale hand tensed slightly in Damen’s hold.

“You’re heartbroken over Jokaste,” he said, still looking at Damen the same way he looked at runes he couldn’t understand. A frown appeared on his forehead when the warrior shook his head.

“Not over Jokaste,” he spoke silently, as if afraid to break the bubble around them and destroy whatever was happening between them before they had a chance to discover what it was, “I just don’t appreciate being lied to. And dragging my family into it. That’s it.”

The two looked at one another for a long moment, trying to read the hidden meaning behind their words. Laurent still hadn’t taken his hand back.

“I’m not Jokaste,” the words shot out from Laurent’s mouth, which seemed to startle him a bit, but he recovered swiftly and added with determination, “I’m not going to be some… some entertainment for you…”

“You won’t be,” Damen’s thumb stroked the soft skin on Laurent’s knuckles. The blond’s breath hitched ever so slightly, “You never were and never will be.”

They stood there for a minute or two, simply looking at each other, until the slender pale fingers twitched and Damen released Laurent’s hand. That seemed to bring the blond back to reality. He blinked and looked around.

Damen jerked his head towards the food truck.

“I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

Laurent sized him up, but then he smirked and teased, “The food better be good or I’m leaving.”

Damen laughed goodheartedly and ordered them dinner.

Soon they would have to go back to the HQ, back to work and whatever dark cloud loomed over their heads. They would need to take care of their problems and make sure a proper investigation was to be conducted. 

But for now they had a few more hours to themselves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!  
> I managed to finally finish this chapter :D  
> Please let me know in the comment what you think, it's always so much fun to read your thoughts <3  
> Have fun!

Laurent took pride in being a man not easily swayed by emotion.

He had perfected the impenetrable mask over the last several years. It wasn’t a choice he had wanted to make, but it was a necessity and he was proud of what he achieved. Majority of the people he met at various points of his life weren’t able to read any emotions by looking at his face, other than the ones he wanted them to see. All they could see was cold indifference, which scared away most classmates at The Academy. Only people who knew him, the real him, could try to see more. But then, not many of them succeeded. It was hard to see through a facade that had been perfected since the tender age of ten, when Laurent had found out the hard way it was more beneficial than to let his emotions and thoughts show on his face.

There were of course people who saw more because he wanted them to. His mom for example, though he did hide some things from her so she wouldn’t worry that much. Laurent never felt the need to put on the mask in front of his brother. Auguste had always been his confidante, his safe haven, even when he found himself stuck between Laurent and their father. And of course Aimeric, who had been the only person outside his family who had been stubborn enough to get to know him and for some reason never left. Laurent figured Nicaise was on a way to become the second Aimeric, judging by the way their friendship progressed. There was no doubt the three of them would get along together, they had similar personalities.

The thought of friends caused a shiver to run down Laurent’s spine. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, burrowing himself under the comforter. They left the slums three hours ago and since then the blond couldn’t help but lay wide awake in his bed, replaying every detail of their trip over and over again.

It was insane how little time it took Laurent to feel comfortable in Damianos’ company.

Laurent didn’t expect to simply take a day off as if it was something normal for him and then spend almost the entire day in slums with Damen, helping the locals and eating surprisingly tasty, if not most likely unhealthy, street food. There was something cathartic about leaving the HQ for a few hours and taking his mind off the tedious work he had left behind.

He should’ve known Damen would be the kind of person who made time personally provide for the less fortunate members of the society. It was nice and fulfilling to spend the time together like this.

What he did not expect was the warrior’s fingers holding gently his own. Even more surprising was the fact that Laurent did not want to take his hand out of the man’s grap.

And then the talk in front of the food truck happened and the blond didn’t know what to think.

He wasn’t uncomfortable when that happened - Laurent was nervous. What made it even more confusing to him was the fact that it wasn’t the bad kind of nervousness. Instead it felt as if he was about to bungee jump. There was the natural fear before stepping over the edge and doing something potentially dangerous, but also the excitement and adrenaline because of doing something dangerous. The fear and shrill balanced one another, but eventually the positive nervousness came out victorious for a very simple reason, which was the fact that there was a thick rope attached to his body, protecting him from falling to his death.

Damen’s words were pushing him over the edge, while the warm look in the dark eyes and a gentle smile provided protection and promised a safe leap into the abyss. 

Laurent wasn’t an idiot. He knew what attraction was, it was impossible to be born and raised in the north and remain clueless.

The thing is, despite being aware of the concept, Laurent had never been attracted to anyone before. Not really. Sure, he would sometimes acknowledge that some man was pleasing to the eye, but that’s it. Whatever he had felt over the years was superficial and gone as soon as men in question walked away or, even more often, it was enough if they opened their mouths. For example, Torveld was a very good-looking guy until he spoke, then all appreciation towards his looks was gone from Laurent’s mind.

It was the first time when that did not happen. 

Laurent wanted to argue that no, he had found Damianos to be an idiot the first time they spoke but as they stood in darkness at that time, he had no idea what the warrior actually looked like.

Cursing silently, the blond adjusted the lamps with a few commands. The light dimmed slightly, but not enough for the room to be actually dark.

He shut his eyes and hid his face in the pillow, wishing for sleep to come swiftly.

It didn’t. 

It never did.

***

The next day proceeded as usual. Laurent got up, washed his face, put on the uniform and headed straight to the office. He didn’t bother with breakfast, he could always steal some granola bar from Nicaise, the younger man had plenty of snacks on his desk.

The work was tedious but the scientist pushed through, knowing as soon as the program was done, the research on the tunnels would pick up the pace significantly.

Usually programming wasn’t as tiring to Laurent, on the contrary, typing commands relaxed him as soon as he got in the zone, but not today. Now he stopped every few verses, realizing only after several seconds that he had been staring mindlessly at the blinking cursor. The frustration grew every time he caught himself doing that.

He had lost one work day and now he was wasting even more time. Had it been Arles HQ, his father would give him so much shit for procrastination.

Heart squeezed itself at the thought of the previous day, reminding him that he in fact didn’t actually feel spending the day with Damen was a waste of time. 

Laurent was about to slam his head against the keyboard when the door slid open and a very upset looking Aimeric walked in.

The brown haired man strode up to Laurent’s desk and glared at him.

“What do you want?”

“Where the fuck have you been yesterday?” he snapped, “We were supposed to get lunch together and you stood me out!”

Laurent rolled his eyes, “Stop being such a dramatic bitch, Aimeric.”

“I’ll be as dramatic as I fucking want,” the medic grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the chair, barely giving Laurent any time to turn the computer off, “Now, we’re going to the cafeteria. You’re not leaving me alone two days in a row.”

The blond let himself be dragged downstairs. His best friend was being dramatic. They ate together every other day, the rest Laurent would meet up and eat with Damen or Auguste, so it wasn’t like Aimeric had been forgotten. 

The medic picked lunch for them, as always, and then sat at the empty table by the window, away from other agents.

“So,” said Aimeric while pouring them both a glass of orange juice. It was said to be freshly squeezed but Laurent doubted that, “where did you go?”

“I had a day off.”

“A day off? You?” Aimeric snorted, “You’ve never taken a day off, save for that one day, back at the Academy, you had a high fever and I dragged your corpse back to the dorms.” 

The blond bit off a piece of the chicken sandwich. He took his time chewing and tried to come up with an excuse. He’s known this man for long enough to know he would interpret this whole thing in a way Laurent didn’t want him to.

Not that Aimeric would be wrong. Not entirely wrong, at least.

“I was doing charity work,” yes, it was good enough.

“Where and why was I not brought along?”

“In the slums.”

“The slums?” Aimeric raised a single eyebrow at him and Laurent wanted to strangle him, “Why the hell did you go there?”

Okay, he thought with resignation. The other man wouldn’t let it go now.

“Damen apparently takes some discarded runestones and tech once in a while,” he explained and reached for the salad. Aimeric always forced him to eat various salads, especially the ones with fruits and vegetables. Sometimes his best friend was worse than his mom when Laurent was eight, “And yesterday we bumped into each other in the workshop and he got mad because I wanted to do my job.”

“So you went with him.”

The scientist shrugged, “Didn’t have much choice.”

“That giant animal forced you to go on a date with him in slums?” the medic snorted and Laurent shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t a date.”

Aimeric laughed and reached over the table to pat his arm.

“Yeah, I figured… Wait,” he narrowed his eyes and it took Laurent every ounce of self-control not to flinch, “Oh my god,” Aimeric gasped, “you wanted it to be a date, didn’t you?”

“No, stop with this nonsense.”

“Dude,” he deadpanned, “you’re blushing. It’s the first time outside of training sessions I’ve seen you blush.”

Sometimes Laurent truly hated his fair complexion. 

“I did  _ not  _ want it to be a date, you’re being an idiot.”

He busied himself with his lunch, doing his best to ignore the staring medic in front of him.

“I’ve never seen you crushing on a guy before,” Aimeric, to Laurent’s exasperation, still wouldn’t shut up, “At The Academy you barely looked at other men and some of them threw themselves at your feet. It’s the first time you’re actually interested in someone.”

“Do we have to have this conversation? Can’t you just let it go?”

“No, I can’t,” the brown haired man leaned forward, his food temporarily forgotten, and whispered, “Tell me everything. What did you do yesterday with him?”

Laurent sighed heavily. The excitement on his best friend’s face was the only thing preventing the scientist from bolting from the cafeteria and locking himself up in some secret, secluded hideout. Like a broom closet. But bigger, he wouldn’t be able to sit for hours in an actual broom closet, it would make him lose his mind.

“Honestly?” Aimeric nodded vigorously, “Not much. He made me take a day off, drove us to the slums, we went to some store, gave people free tech and runestones, fixed some things for them. Then we realized we missed lunch…”

“He took you to a restaurant?”

Laurent snorted, “In slums?”

“Fair point.”

“There was some food truck nearby, Damen ordered for us…”

“Did he pay for you?” Aimeric’s eyes shone with excitement.

Laurent shrugged, “He had to, I didn’t have any money on me.” 

“You left without your wristband?”

“I meant physical money.”

“Oh,” he said, “Right. I forgot some people still use coins.”

Laurent had forgotten too and it had been a surprise when Damen reached into his pocket and took out old, rusty coins. The owner of the food truck smiled at the warrior then and gladly accepted the payment. After they walked away, Laurent asked Damen why these people were so stubborn to keep using physical money. The coins were so old they were considered antique. The people could get their own wristbands and a nice sum to their bank account if they sold them at the antique stores or banks. Damen laughed then and said  _ it’s all they know.  _ That made Laurent stop asking stupid questions.

“So, when’s the second date?”

“I already told you..”

“Yes, yes, it wasn’t a date, blah blah blah,” Aimeric waved his hand dismissively, “Bullshit. He took you out his day off to volunteer and then bought you dinner. You blushed at the thought of him. It absolutely was a date.”

Laurent pushed away his plate and looked outside the window. In the distance he could see the highway leading to the slums and let his mind wonder for a while. He remembered how it felt to leave the HQ with Damianos without any threats waiting for them at the destination point. The thoughts of them helping people flooded his mind, memories of how he would steal glances from time to time, just to check on how Damen was doing, and seeing a beautiful smile on this handsome face.

Laurent thought of the irritatingly insistent thought of holding the warrior’s hand while they made their way through the crowd on the street and how his heart missed a beat when Damen reached out first and took his hand in his own.

He tried not to dwell on what had been happening in his mind while they stood by the food truck, these brown eyes so soft and warm, the big warm hand still holding his own oh so gently while he spoke those unexpected, confusing words.

Laurent was already aware of his own attraction and he was intelligent enough to understand what Damen had been saying in between the lines, however…

“I don’t…” he swallowed. A small ship flew by, a bit too close to the window for Laurent’s liking, “I don’t know how…”

“Hey,” a gentle hand laid on top of Laurent’s, making him look away from the window and at his companion. There were no traces of the teasing tone from before on Aimeric’s face, only understanding, “There’s nothing wrong with you if you catch feelings for someone from time to time.”

“Some of my family members would disagree.”

Aimeric almost spat to his salad and grimaced, “Fuck your father and fuck your uncle. They don’t know shit about you or what’s good for you.”

“Distractions aren’t good for my career and that's all they care about,” he mentioned.

“Overworking yourself, living and breathing work aren’t good for you,” the medic pointed out, “You need to have a private life or you’ll go insane. Now,” he straightened in his seat, “does he like you too?”

Laurent took a fork and moved it around between his fingers, just to have something to do with his hands.

“We’re friends,” he did his best to make his voice sound as innocent as possible, “of course he likes me.”

“Laurent.”

The blond groaned, “I don’t know, Aimeric. Maybe. It did sound like he wanted to…” he shook his head. It wouldn’t do for him to start being irrational, “How am I supposed to know? It’s not like I have any comparison. Besides,” he added in hopes it would end this conversation, “there’s still a lot of work to do. My tunnels and we need to catch that hacker before something worse happens…”

“I don’t think your job is any excuse for you to not go after a hot guy who might be into you,” Aimeric pushed Laurent’s plate closer to him, encouraging him to eat more. Laurent did, hungry after skipping breakfast, “and let me tell you, you insecure bitch, “he pointed a knife at him but Laurent barely blinked, he wasn’t about to flinch at his best friend waving a butter knife with a piece of lettuce stuck to it, “I have watched the two of you for at least a month and that beefcake’s eyes always land on you, no matter what he’s doing at the moment. And so does yours. So, if you want my advice…”

“I don’t.”

“I would advise you to take a run-up and jump on it. I’m sure with these muscles you don’t have to worry about hitting the ground.”

Laurent wanted said ground to swallow him and suddenly he was more than grateful that they chose a table far away from other agents having their meals. His best friend could be so embarrassing, sometimes the scientist wished he could pretend they didn’t know each other. Unfortunately, he loved Aimeric too much to just ignore him like this.

After a few minutes of silence, spent on filling their stomachs, Aimeric spoke again.

“Do you really think your uncle could have done this?”

Laurent fixed him with a glare, “You of all people shouldn’t doubt it.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t,” the man raised his hands defensively, “You know I’ll be the first to yell how dangerous Reginald can be. I’m just saying I don’t understand why he would leave a trail straight to Chastillon. Shit like this would throw him to jail.”

The scientist didn’t have the answer to this question. He had no idea why it was so easy for Nicaise to pinpoint the location and, logically speaking, it made no sense for his uncle to let them find him if he truly was the one responsible. There was also no reason for him to turn on the organisation that nearly worshipped him and valued his work.

Having said that, it wasn’t unlikely. Reginald Revere had knowledge and resources necessary to break into their systems and cause a ruckus. 

The uncertainty kept him awake at night.

***

They were just finishing their meals when the cafeteria door burst open and the topic of their previous conversation walked in. It didn’t take long before Damianos spotted them. He strode to their table and Laurent had to kick Aimeric in the ankle when the medic giggled under his breath about Laurent ogling the warrior.

He was  _ not _ ogling Damianos. 

“Hey. I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Before Laurent could open his mouth, Aimeric jumped in, “No, of course you’re not,” he smirked, “What can we do for you?”

Damen smiled briefly at Aimeric before moving his gaze to Laurent.

“I was wondering… Are you busy?”

Laurent raised an eyebrow at the question. He snorted, “I was busy yesterday but that didn’t stop you. I won’t be taking a day off twice in a row.”

The man rubbed his neck and smiled almost sheepishly in a way that made Laurent almost wish Damen would ask him again to get off work early. Almost.

“No, that wasn’t what I…” Damen took a deep breath as if to steel himself and suddenly all traces of humour left his face, “I need your help.”

The blond straightened in the chair. It wasn’t often when he saw the taller man so serious outside of field missions.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you on the way,” Damen took a step towards the exit and Laurent began placing dirty dishes back on the tray.

“Sorry,” he muttered to his friend.

Aimeric’s hand stopped him, “Don’t worry about it. Go and have fun,” the medic winked at him and if it weren’t for the concern ruling over his mind, Laurent would’ve kicked him again, “Tell me everything later.”

The blond hurried after Damianos out of the cafeteria. He let him lead the way in silence, the evident tenseness in the man’s shoulders preventing Laurent from speaking first.

However, when they reached the familiar turn leading to the underground parking, Laurent’s brows furrowed in confusion. And when Damen went left and up instead of right and down, his patience ended.

“Are you going to tell me where are we going?”

The warrior glanced over his shoulder, clearly weighing his options. Ultimately he said, “We just got a crucial piece of information and I need to check it out personally.”

“And you have to drag me there with you?”

“Yes.”

A shiver ran down Laurent’s spine and he was more than glad that his companion resumed walking. Explaining the reason for the heat on his cheeks was the last thing Laurent wanted to do. Ever.

He did his best to focus on the fact that something was clearly wrong enough to make his friend so anxious instead of the simple yet insistent thought that Damianos asked  _ him  _ to go somewhere. He could’ve asked anybody for help but he chose  _ Laurent _ .

He shook his head and reminded himself why the man even walked up to him in the first place.

A few moments later they finally stopped before a wide, metal door. Damen pushed a button and the door slid to the side. The two stepped inside and the realization of where he found himself sobered Laurent immediately.

“Are we flying somewhere?” he looked around the enormous hangar, filled to the brim with jets, small and bigger ships, all propriety of Spectrum.

Damianos reached inside the security booth - empty, Laurent noticed - and pulled out two coats. He handed one to the scientist who instantly recognized it.

“How did you get my coat?” 

Last time he checked it was in the closet in a high rank scientists' office.

“I went first to your office to find you but you weren’t there, so Nicaise gave it to me,”that little shit. Laurent was going to strangle him. “Put it on, it’s cold outside”

Damen reached inside the booth once again. The roof jerked and began opening. Laurent glared at his friend who was now walking towards one of the smaller ships with keys in his hand.

“You can’t take a ship without permission!” Laurent hissed and glanced around, expecting security to jump out any second and hand them over to Makedon.

“I know but we have to.”

They got inside the ship. It was relatively small. There were four seats, two directly behind the control panel and two at the back. Behind the seats was just enough space to fit a bag which Laurent knew contained guns, laser blades and cuffs, basic warrior’s equipement.

Had it not been for the see through glass around him, Laurent would have already started sweating.

When Damen jumped on the pilot seat and closed the door, the blond once again looked around, this time for a different reason.

“We’re going alone?”

“We are.”

“Damen, if this is a field mission, we need to have someone from the healers with us,” Laurent reminded him, “That’s the protocol. At least one person from each section…”

“I know the protocol, Laurent,” his jaw was clenched and his whole body radiated with tension, “But this is too important to just grab someone… Nevermind,” he shook his head and threw Laurent a half smile, “there will be medics on the spot, so it doesn’t matter.”

“On the spot meaning where?”

The man pressed several buttons and the whole cabin lit up. Damen grabbed the handle and the ship lifted from the ground, slowly but surely leaving the hangar behind them.

Damen must have noticed the blond’s fists clenched around the armrests. He smiled, an actual warm smile this time which made Laurent’s heart miss a beat at the sight of the dimple.

“Don’t be afraid, Laurent, the last time I crashed a plane I was seven.”

Laurent blanched, “Who let you fly a plane at seven?!”

“Nobody! That’s why I crashed!”

The blond looked at him incredulously and Damen must have noticed because he huffed a laugh not long after. Something in Laurent’s chest unclenched at the sound. He certainly preferred laughter, even at his own expense, over that awful frown and tension from before. For a split second the worry slipped from the scientist’s mind.

Even though it was still relatively early, winter already darkened the sky. Colorful neon lights danced between the buildings and made the city look like a psychedelic dream. Laurent, despite being born and raised in Arles, where such views were also present during the day due to the overabundance of neon signs and banners, he felt the view take his breath away. From the deck of the ship, Marlas seemed as if it was bathed in Northern Lights. It was truly beautiful.

After some long minutes Laurent relaxed in his seat. Damen clearly knew how to fly this thing, so maybe this wouldn’t be their last day on Earth.

“You promised to explain,” Laurent reminded him, keeping his voice carefully void of emotions. It wouldn’t help if he let Damianos know how worried he has been since the man first spoke to him at the cafeteria.

A glance to the side provided him with the sight of a scowl creeping up on the warrior’s face.

“Tell me,” he said, gently.

Damen exhaled slowly, “There was a message.”

“A message?”

“Anonymous message,” the dark haired man added, “advising us to keep a close eye on the ancient tunnels our scientists have been working on.”

“My tunnels?” Laurent frowned, now even more confused than before, “Why?”

“I have no idea,” the big hands tightened around the steering wheel and the blond found himself briefly distracted, “They just wrote to be wary because they’re not going to be safe for much longer.”

Laurent’s mind went in overdrive. The message could mean multiple things. First of all, it could just be a prank, some silly, ill-timed joke. If that was the case, he would murder whoever thought it was funny. It wasn’t, not after recent events.

If the message was an actual warning, the people behind it could mean the tunnels were about to become unstable and collapse. It was a possibility Laurent had ruled out a while back, when he first studied the map made by the sonar he checked if it was safe to open the corridors. He would never risk anyone’s life to get an award. Despite having found no danger, Laurent wasn’t self-centered enough to not at least consider someone’s warning. Safety comes first. He wasn’t his uncle.

Then, of course, the mysterious people could have meant that someone was going to put them and the tunnels in danger. Considering the events from the last months, Laurent believed it to be the most probable option.

“So,” he said, “who do we expect to meet there?”

“Your team.”

“And?”

“Just them.”

Laurent raised his eyebrows, “You didn’t notify anyone?” Damen shook his head, “Why?”

“I had a feeling,” the warrior picked his words carefully, as if he was scared of saying something Laurent wouldn’t like, “that I shouldn’t let Makedon send a team which would spend a few minutes there and leave. I also couldn’t tell anyone I’m taking you with me because…” he took a deep breath and turned to Laurent, not a short glance like before, now he looked at the blond with soft concert in his eyes, “Because I hated the thought of you being talked down to for your concerns again.”

Laurent didn't look away. He couldn’t. The way the brown eyes seemed to see right through him, drill right into his soul and learn all of the secrets burrowed deep down within... It took all of his carefully cultivated self-control to keep his breathing at a normal pace, but even that wasn’t enough to calm his heart down. The blond could feel the corner of his mouth jerk upwards, just slightly, but the man beside him must’ve noticed if the bright smile was any indication.

After a short moment which felt like hours, Laurent managed to tear his eyes away and come to his senses.

He cleared his throat and said, “Watch where you fly, would you? I’d like to live a little longer.”

Damen laughed in a way which made Laurent shiver, “Don’t worry, Laurent. I won’t let you die. Not today and not any other day. You’re safe with me.”

“I won’t let you get hurt either,” Laurent’s voice betrayed the emotions bubbling up inside of him and, yet again, the other man seemed to understand what was left unsaid. 

The journey took them around half an hour and soon the warrior finally lowered the ship by he western tunnel. The landing was a bit shaky but neither of them commented on it. They had other things to worry about.

The two men took out a gun each from Damen’s bag, just in case. The gun Laurent picked was smooth and light in his hand, perfect for quick reaction. And then they got out of the ship and Laurent’s worry skyrocketed.

Damen turned to him, a confusion clear in his eyes, “Did you give your team a day off?”

Laurent shook his head and unloaded the gun.

The area around the tunnel was entirely empty. It was the first red flag he noticed but the second one was the reason he turned off the safety switch on his weapon.

Laurent might’ve missed the decision about a day off. He had been secluding himself for a while now to write the program and visited only once a week. However, he knew the ruler around here. He had been the one to set them. 

One of said rules being to never leave the entrance unprotected. There were always guards stationed or the door firmly closed.

Now, there were no guards in sight and the door was wide open.

“Wait,” Damen grabbed him by the elbow when Laurent took a step forward, “You shouldn’t go in there.”

“Why? It’s not like I would be going in by myself,” the blond smirked and added in a teasing tone, “And you did just promise to protect me, didn’t you?”

The joke flew above the taller man’s head, Instead of laughing, he looked Laurent dead in the eye and murmured, “You’ll be safe with me.”

Despite this being the worst timing possible, the heat creeped up the scientist’s neck, reaching his face. The hold on his elbow loosened to a gentle caress and together with the warm expression on Damen’s face, it made Laurent want to melt into a puddle. The reaction startled him back into reality. Noone had ever managed to silence all thoughts in Laurent’s head so easily. Noone.

“I don’t…” he swallowed a lump in his throat, “We have to check…”

Damen nodded slowly, his kind eyes still fixed on Laurent’s in a way which made it impossible to look away.

“Can we talk about it? Later?”

Apparently Laurent’s tiny smile was enough of an answer for Damen. The warrior smiled back, brightly, and went inside the tunnel first. The blond followed him.

The light from Damen’s flashlight illuminated their way through the tunnel. At first Laurent took advantage of the light reaching the walls to check on the runes. They were just as he left them, untouched, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Only then was he able to focus on the potential danger they were heading towards. 

The sound of their footsteps pierced through the silence, Laurent grimaced a few times. It sounded so loud despite their attempts at keeping it toned down and he had a feeling they should remain as quiet as possible.

They walked for a long time, Damen at the front, shielding the scientist who from time to time would tap him on the shoulder when they needed to change the direction. At last, the warrior stopped and turned around.

“We walked for at least half an hour,” the whisper bounced against the walls, increasing the volume, “and we found nothing. How many corridors are left?”

Laurent opened the map on his wristband and checked their pathing.

“Only two. They’re close to each other.”

The two walked faster, eager to get out of the darkness as soon as possible. The unchecked corridors were right next to each other. Damen went closer to one of them and peaked around the corner to look inside, which was enough as this was the dead end, where Laurent’s team hadn’t drilled yet.

The blond stayed behind, watching his friend carefully. He wanted to see Damianos hurt just as much as Damianos wished it for Laurent, which was not at all.

Suddenly, Laurent heard a movement to his left. He whipped around just in time to see a big, dark shape. The figure charged at him.The scientist’s hand shot up and he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot alerted the warrior behind him. Damen ran up to Laurent’s side and directed the flashlight at the aggressor's face.

Laurent inhaled sharply. It was the same man who had held the young boy and tried to plant the bomb.

The man’s face was as disgusting as he remembered. His features were twisted in a sneer, the broken nose casted irregular shadow down his face but the worst were his eyes, which shone with barely contained madness. He gripped his arm in a meaty palm, blood running down his fingers.

The warrior made a move forward, probably to arrest the rebel. The man smirked at them and spat on the ground between him and the two agents. Then he reached for something behind him and took out a small device.

Laurent shouted, “No…!”

But it was too late. The terrorist already disappeared.

***

“I can’t believe the fucker teleported himself out. We almost had him.”

Laurent did nothing to calm his friend down. He was just as pissed off as Damen.

“He got out, how could I let him get away…”

That was enough, Laurent decided. He placed a hand on the warriors shoulder, rock hard with tension.

“We couldn’t have known he had a portable teleport device,” he tried to reason with the warrior.”

Damen frowned, the internal battle written all over his face.

“There was nothing we could do,” he added and the man sighed heavily.

“Maybe you’re right. We’ll catch him next time.”

“Of course we will. It’s going to be hard for him to run away with a hole in the shoulder.”

Damen chuckled and Laurent felt himself relax.

“Sorry,” he said, “I just don’t like feeling so helpless.”

“Nobody does.”

They walked towards their ship.

“I could only stand there and watch. It was almost like when your uncle came to see the shield..”

Laurent stopped dead in his tracks, “What did you just say?”

The other man turned around and searched his face.

“What did you just say about my uncle?”

“He came to see the shield once,” Damen said each word with hesitance, “The same day he left Marlas. Jokaste said something about checking if our shield was compatible with the new update…”

Laurent squeezed his eyes shut. His heart pumped the blood through his veins with enough force to cause an immediate headache.

“And you kept it to yourself the entire time?!”

“I…” the blond fixed him with a glare. Right in this moment nothing else mattered. Not the kind words, shared meals, standing up to Revere family members for Laurent. Not even the trip to the slums. The feeling of betrayal burned the scientist’s veins from the inside.

“You said you suspect my uncle too and yet you kept it to yourself. You had a month to tell me about it!” he didn’t care he was yelling, not even the shocked and hurt expression on Damianos’ face could convince him to lower his voice, “You know what, forget about me-- You could’ve said it at the meeting with my father!”

“I’m so sorry, Laurent,” he reached out to him. Laurent slapped his hand away.

“Save it. Let’s go back.”

Laurent was silently seething for the entirety of the flight back. As soon as Damen landed, he unbuckled his seat and jumped out of the ship.

He strode out of the hangar, still just as mad as by the tunnels.

It was unbelievable. He let himself warm up to this man, let himself think the cosy, comfortable feeling would always be there between them. That the safety he felt around the warrior would be permanent.

He should’ve known better. It was obvious there could be no such thing between him and Damianos. Whatever he secretly began hoping for sometime during the last few weeks was nothing but a wishful thinking.

It was foolish to believe Laurent could let Damen close to him, closer than any men had managed to get before him. A lie was to be expected, eventually, and Laurent was glad it happened now and not when he actually let himself fall for the team leader.

For Damen it probably was a game anyways, he figured. Laurent wasn’t neither blind nor deaf, he knew exactly what Damen’s type was and what was his game.

It was safe to assume that Damianos saying Laurent wasn’t another Jokaste was also a lie.

“Laurent, please, wait!”

Laurent shook Damen’s palm off of his shoulder and glared daggers at him. But before either of them could say something, someone else called their names.

Auguste walked out of the elevator and closed the distance between them. If he noticed the tension between his younger brother and best friend, he decided not to mention anything and a second later Laurent found out why.

Two other men in blue uniforms of the Arles HQ walked up to them. They nodded at Laurent.

“Rochert, Jord,” he looked between the two familiar warriors from his previous workplace, “What are you doing here?”

“We have a very important message,” said Rochert, the usual humour in his eyes now completely gone, “and we think you should hear it first.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back! Hope you like this update :D

“Alright,” said Laurent, “talk.”

They sat in one of the smaller cafeterias. It was the closest vacant room where they could sit down and talk undisturbed. Nobody ever came here at this hour and most people preferred the main cafeteria, if only to meet up with friends from all sections and gossip. Damen ate in the cafeteria at his floor once in a blue moon, when he had a bad mood and wanted half an hour to himself. It’s been a while since he even thought of eating alone. A glance to the side provided him with a painful pang in the chest, reminding him he might have to fight tooth and nail to not start having lunch without a certain bright presence by his side.

Damianos was more than aware of the fact that he royally fucked up.

“Our scientists got the orders to check the IP signal leading to Chastillon,” said Rochert and everyone’s attention zeroed to the man. Except for Damen, who’s eyes flickered to the blond haired siblings. Auguste looked concerned, while Laurent visibly tensed.

“And?”

“They found out that Chastillon probably wasn’t the source, but the signal is weird.”

“Weird how?” it was Auguste’s turn to say something, now that he apparently overcame the initial shock, “The town either is a source or not.”

“We don’t really understand it either,” Jord admitted, looking at the older Revere apologetically, “We were only asked to bring this to you first, “the man reached inside his bag and brought out a flash drive, “before showing it to your boss.”

“Who gave you these orders?”

“Your mother.”

Laurent accepted the flash drive and looked at it for a few seconds, as if waiting for something to happen. Damen knew him well enough at this point (or, at least, he hoped that was the case) to figure the man must’ve thought of his mother. Laurent mentioned Hennike several times during their shared meals and from what Damen gathered, she was the actual parental figure in the scientist’s life and he loved her a lot. 

A gut feeling told Damianos madame Revere went behind her husband’s back with the flash drive.

Rochert brought out a tablet and passed it to Laurent, who took it and plugged in the drive in a swift motion. He unconsciously held his breath in anticipation.

“So apparently the signal jumped between locations before landing in Chastillon. Whoever did it tried to hide the true source.”

“Jumped between where?”

“Everywhere,” he replied, “Bazal, Skarva, Arles, Marlas, Ios. And Chastillon, of course.”

“So it clears our uncle then,” Auguste’s voice was hopeful, “right?”

“Maybe,” Laurent shrugged, ”unless someone is withholding valuable information, then we can’t be sure.”

The blond openly glared at him and for a split second it felt like the very beginning of their relationship, the misunderstanding stage, when Laurent would try to murder him by simply staring at him.

It had been awful. Now, after two months of pretty close friendship, it was even worse than before.

Damen’s heart clenched.

“What do you mean?”

“Damianos here forgot to mention uncle had been sniffing around our shield before he left Marlas. That’s unfortunate.”

All eyes in the room landed on him. The two agents from Arles HQ looked at him with obvious curiosity, Auguste seemed confused and Laurent…

Damen missed the soft, warm look in these blue eyes. He had forgotten how it felt to be subjected to their piercing coldness after so many days with only fondness and mirth in them.

“What is he talking about, Damen?”

The warrior tore his eyes away from the younger brother and looked at the other blond. 

“I, uhm…” he cleared his throat. There was no right way to say that, “I had met the professor by the shield the day he left but I didn’t think…”

“You’re right,” Damen wasn’t sure which was sharper - Laurent’s voice or his eyes, but both cut him deep, “you didn’t think at all.”

When Laurent turned away, the warrior felt the air coming back to his lungs. He didn’t even notice when he stopped breathing.

The blond typed furiously for a while, his jaw visibly clenched so hard it must’ve hurt. The other four men were silently watching him. Damen knew it wouldn’t do him any good to speak right now and the visitors from Arles HQ apparently also knew better. The only person brave enough to break the silence was Auguste.

“What are you doing?”

Laurent finished typing, unplugged the flash drive and passed everything back to Rochert.

“I sent a copy of the files to myself,” he replied, “Just in case someone tampered with the data. Take the original to Makedon, maybe that will finally help me convince him.”

After that, the blond stood and walked out of the room, avoiding the other men’s eyes.

Avoiding Damen’s eyes.

It hurt.

***

Damen heard from one of the middle rank warriors that Laurent had, in fact, gone to see Makedon. According to the young woman, the scientist had spent exactly five minutes with the head of Marlas HQ and no raised voices could be heard from behind the closed door. Afterwards he had left the office with his usual cold impenetrable mask on his face.

The only even remotely interesting thing the young warrior could tell him was that Makedon’s last words before dismissing Laurent were “I’ll take it into consideration”. She could hear it because that part of the conversation happened when the two men stood in the threshold and Makedon, to her astonishment, patted Laurent on the shoulder.

Damen wanted to talk to Laurent. He wanted to sit with him in the greenhouse, hidden away from the rest of the world by green vines and colorful, sweet smelling flowers, where nobody would interrupt them and let the man vent as much as he needed. He didn’t have to see him to know the blond got frustrated after being brushed off by Makedon. Damen used to work as the warrior captain before he had left Ios HQ for the facility in Marlas, so he was more than familiar with the true meaning of _ taking something into consideration,  _ especially spoken on someone’s way out. Additionally, after being friends with the blond for two months, it wouldn’t be surprising if his friend felt as if he was alone.

He remembered Laurent mentioning that his best friend, Aimeric, was rather unexpectedly sceptical of his suspicions. Even his own brother, Auguste, refused to take his words into account, which broke the young scientist’s heart more than he was willing to show. Damen had been the only one who accepted Laurent’s theory and speculated further with him.

But now he couldn’t just walk up to the man and talk things through. He couldn’t sit next to him, listen to his smooth voice and observe the flicker lighting up his blue eyes whenever he got really into the conversation and let himself be carried away.

Damen missed it. He didn’t even realize how much he had grown attached to spending time with Laurent over the last few weeks until their time together ended out of the blue and without any warning. The warrior thought briefly about the quiet, shy promise made after the encounter with the mysterious rebel with the flat nose. But even the fact that they were going to talk about the thing that changed between them recently and never got to have this conversation wasn’t even close to what caused Damen the most pain.

What hurt Damianos the most was the lack of Laurent’s presence. They didn’t need to talk if the blond didn’t wish to. Sitting next to Laurent in silence would be enough. 

A hand slammed the table in front of him and Damen flinched, brutally torn out of the endless stream of depressing thoughts.

“Snap out of it, would you?” Nikandros fixed him with a disapproving glare, one the team leader had been subjected to frequently since the fiasco by the tunnels.

A heavy sigh left his lips. “You don’t understand, Nik…”

“Oh no, no,” the other man interjected, “I do understand perfectly. You’re miserable because yet another blue eyed and fair haired viper broke your heart.”

Damen rubbed his face with open palm. He knew this speech by heart and wasn’t in the mood to listen to it today. Or any day, for that matter. He didn’t want to hear it at all but despite his objections, Nikandros kept on repeating every single word like a mantra.

“You don’t know everything, Nik,” Damen lifted his eyes to his best friend’s face, his exasperation heavier at the ever present scowl, “you have no idea why he reacted that way and how big of an idiot I was to…”

“He hates his uncle’s guts, so what?” Nikandros threw his hands in the air. “He might’ve had every right to get pissed at you, fine, but this ice-queen-like silent treatment? Hell no. He behaves as if you murdered his fucking childhood dog. He should’ve at least let you explain and apologize. He’s a dick and a bad friend and you shouldn’t have insisted on befriending him in the first place. When will you understand that?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened as the man gritted his teeth. Every conversation on this topic ended the same way - Nikandros slandering Laurent and his friendship and, even more, Laurent himself. As if the scientist wasn’t a great friend. As if he wasn’t a good person. Nik didn’t even know him but that never stopped him from reducing the blond man to the cold facade he liked to shield himself with from the rest of the world.

“And he’s been like this for what, two weeks now?” It was, in fact, two weeks. Fifteen days to be exact. Damianos wasn’t even ashamed anymore that he was counting. “Yet you still wait for him, and for what? Some weak, second hand friendship? Or do you think you can get him to bed? You have to get over it, man…”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Damen snapped which shut Nikandros up, at last, “Laurent’s relationship with his uncle is not just pettiness like you think, it’s way more complicated and as his friend I should’ve known better than to keep valuable information from him. Especially when the professor is a suspect.”

Now it was Nik’s turn to sigh. “Do you actually believe that? Reginald Revere is one of the most important people in Spectrum, why in the ever loving fuck would he…”

In that exact moment Laurent entered the cafeteria, flanked by both Aimeric and Nicaise this time. Damen was happy the blond was making friends and allowing more people to see how good of a man he was.

When the three passed by their table, Damen’s eyes nearly drilled a hole in Laurent’s face, silently begging him to at least throw him a glance. At first, during the early days of their fight, the warrior at least got an angry glare whenever they saw each other. But since then, the blond scientist wouldn’t look at him at all. As if Damen didn’t exist anymore.

Surely enough, Laurent walked away with his eyes fixed firmly to some point in front of him. Nicaise followed while looking at his coworker with an amused smirk. Only Aimeric turned around, his eyes apologetic as they landed on Damianos. The medic then whispered something to the blond’s ear only to get a short but clearly angry response.

It made Damen worry. If Aimeric, who wasn’t friends with him, got yelled, then Laurent wasn’t ok. He would accept Laurent putting boundaries as long as he was alright.

The warrior ignored Nikandros’ mantra, too absorbed in worry-filled thoughts of the blond scientist.

  
  


***

“Gather round, children!” Makedon's voice echoed loudly in the hangar. Heads turned around to look at their boss. The man stood on the back of a truck, one of the oldest, which was long out of commision, and observed the agents. “Over the last several weeks our facility has gone through difficult times. We fought hard to protect both the civils and ourselves. Sometimes we succeeded, “Makedon exhaled heavily, “other times we failed. I know we are all tired and are fed up with all this shit, so I decided it would do us all good to have 24 hours off duty!”

People around him cheered. Damen clapped with a small smile. Makedon was right, they all needed to wind down and a full day without work would be beneficial.

They were led to the gym hall where a bunch of tables were set up, some full of snacks and others heavy with alcohol. In just half an hour the party was in full swing. Damen did his best to unwind and have fun with his friends, but the lack of one of said friends was like a thorn in his side. Unfortunately, every attempt to engage Laurent in a conversation was failed and soon Nikandros drew Damen away and made him drink in hopes Vallis would forget about the beautiful blond head.

*

The blond placed a careful hand on the table. His face was impenetrable and as composed as ever and Damen wouldn’t worry, had it not been for the overly careful way he held himself. The warrior glanced around. Most people already left for their quarters and the ones who stayed to indulge more paid Laurent no mind. He didn't blame them for thinking the blond to be fine. To an unfamiliar eye Laurent would seem completely sober, maybe a bit tired of anything. However, Damen had spent weeks studying his face, deciphering every movement of his facial muscles, no matter how small and insignificant they may have seemed, and now it was easier for him to see the cracks in the scientist's mask.

He scanned the room again, this time in search of another blond head but there was no sight of the older Revere. His eyes went back to Laurent, the man now gripping the edge of the table so he would fall down. 

Damen steeled himself before he walked up to him. 

"Laurent…"

Laurent turned around - extremely slowly for him - to look at Damen. For a few seconds his eyes were unfocused, as if he couldn't see clearly who stood in front of him, but then his vision sharpened. The warrior was certain the man would ignore him and walk away, as he did throughout the last two weeks.

Instead, the blond grimaced and said, "Did you come here to tell me about another insignificant detail about my uncle you forgot to mention? Did you two get lunch?"

A tiny laugh escaped Damen's lips. He had missed hearing Laurent's voice so much he didn't mind that the man tried to insult him. Nikandros would've called him a fool but Vallis couldn't care less. He got to hear Laurent talk to him again.

"Are you having fun, Laurent?"

"No, not really." The scientist huffed, stepping from side to side.

It didn't escape Damen's attention that Laurent's words indicated he already didn't have fun before he walked up to him.

Hope bloomed inside Damen's chest at this realization.

Laurent’s other hand, the one which didn’t support his weight, raised a half full glass to his lips. Or, tried to. It took three times for the glass to reach the man’s lips instead of pressing it to his chin on cheek.

Damen bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t laugh. He knew even intoxicated Laurent wouldn’t appreciate him making fun of his current state, especially as they were still doing that silent treatment thing.

“I’ve never seen you drink before.” He remarked, nodding towards the drink.

“You haven’t seen me doing a lot of things.”

“I would like to,” the blond’s eyes met his own and Damen wanted to drown in the cold blue, “if you let me.”

The scientist swallowed. They maintained eye contact for a long while, having a silent conversation. Damen hoped the man saw what he tried to communicate - the regret, the longing and a few more chaotic emotions the warrior didn’t know how to explain yet.

“I let you before and see where it got me.” Laurent murmured and took a gulp, almost spilling his drink all over his uniform.

Damen’s heart clenched. He forced himself to focus on more optimistic parts of this conversation, the biggest one being that they were having a conversation at all.

“How much did you drink?”

Laurent scoffed and stumbled a bit. “None of your damn business.”

“Laurent.”

“Damianos.”

Usually Laurent’s glare caused men to cower with fear, wet their pants and regret the day they were born, but now his narrowed eyes only made Damen think of a blind rat and it took every ounce of self-control for him not to holler.

The next time the blond swayed, Damen held out a hand and wrapped his fingers around his elbow.

“Maybe you should lie down?”

Laurent nodded - his head rolled from side to side - and then he furrowed his brows.

“I don’t think I can walk on my own.”

“I’ll walk you to your quarters.” Damen was unable to repress a wide smile when his friend agreed.

They made their way to the exit. Laurent held himself up and mostly walked on his own, with Damen only making sure he wouldn’t fall face down, but as soon as they stepped out of the gym hall, the blond slumped against his side.

“I can’t walk.” He muttered.

The warrior tried to push his thoughts away from how warm Laurent’s body felt against his own, how well his waist fit Damen’s hold or how good the golden strands smelled. He could only hope his friend wouldn’t notice the frantic heartbeat through the drunken haze.

When they reached the elevators, Laurent told him his floor but surprisingly, he kept talking.

“I wanted to hate you,” he said into the taller man’s broad arm, “I wanted to hate you so much for not telling me about my uncle.”

Damen swallowed. “You don’t? Hate me?”

The blond hair rubbed on the purple uniform as he shook his head. Slowly, as if the motion sucked an enormous amount of energy out of him.

“You’re impossible to hate, you brute,” he huffed, “I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Laurent.”

“I miss you,” Laurent’s breath caressed Damen’s neck, sending a wave of goosebumps down his throat, “I miss our conversations. I even miss… the talk we never had, you know? I wanted to talk… about that… about us...”

The elevator hummed silently as it took them to the upper levels of Marlas HQ, where living quarters were placed. Usually Damen didn’t notice the elevators making any sound, so it could as well be the sound of his own blood rushing through the veins, buzzing in his ears. Every breath was a conscious decision. He forced himself to breathe slowly, in and out, while doing his best to not pay any mind to the gorgeous man pressed close to him, his enticing smell and soft, sleepy sounds he made every now and then.

The door slid open and they walked to Laurent’s door. It took a minute before the young scientist pressed the right code on the panel. Damen tried to not look around too much. It felt like intruding, being here with Laurent not fully conscious, but he couldn’t help but notice a few big lamps in every corner of the room. He wondered why there were so many of them.

Damen helped Laurent lie down on the bed and took off his shoes before he covered him with a blanket.

A hand shot up from the blanket and wrapped around Damen’s fingers.

“The light…”

“Want me to turn it off?”

“Leave it on,” he murmured, half asleep, “please… I can’t… in the dark…”

Laurent pressed his face into the pillow and sighed. He looked so heartbreakingly soft and beautiful it almost distracted the warrior from the uneasy feeling lurking at the back of his head. Ultimately he decided it wasn’t time to think about it, tipsy and in the middle of the night, so he just adjusted the light in Laurent’s lamps and left.

***

It wasn’t often for Damen to sit in the main cafeteria for breakfast without any company but for once he was happy on his own. He could afford to zone out and recall the previous evening.

He would’ve preferred if Laurent talked to him without the influence of alcohol but progress was progress and he wasn’t one to complain about it. They had a conversation - kind off - and that was all that mattered to him.

Damen was just in the middle of recalling the shade of Laurent’s eyes when the same blue appeared in front of him and if it wasn’t for a silent cough, he probably would’ve thought it was only his imagination giving him what he wanted.

Laurent stood by his table, holding himself warily. Damen braced himself. The scientist was pale, the skin under his eyes darker than usual, but despite the obvious lack of energy the blue eyes were even more sharp than on any other day, observing and assessing the situation. He was like a leopard with a headache, around whom one must tread very, very carefully.

“Good morning.”

Laurent didn’t reply, his eyes firmly set on Damen’s face. The silence made the older man uneasy. It felt like a test, and he was unaware of what he was being tested for.

“Did I say something?”

Damen blinked. “What?”

“Did I say something yesterday? Or do?”

He felt himself shake his head before saying, “Not much.”

“But I said something.”

“Just that you miss me.”

The blond pursed his lips. There was an internal battle going on inside of him, Damen noticed, and he hoped for a favourable outcome.

Finally, the man lowered himself slowly on the seat across the table, his eyes fixed on some stain only he could see.

“I do,” Damen almost gasped at the amount of vulnerability in the blond’s voice, “miss you. More than I should.”

“I’m very sorry, Laurent.” The warrior didn’t waste any more time. This was his chance to explain, to apologize as he had been trying to do for the last two weeks. “I genuinely didn’t think anything of it. Reginald makes my skin crawl, yes, but I never thought he would do something as bad to Spectrum. So… I guess I forgot about it?” He grimaced. “And Jokaste was with him there, so…”

Laurent sighed. Damen shut his mouth and waited for his friend to say something.

“I’m sorry too.” The scientist’s eyes met his. The blue full of sadness. “Anger clouded my judgement. I should’ve trusted you. I..” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I do miss you so much, I…”

Before he could say anything more, a young man, a scientist, ran up to their table and blurted, “Sir, you’re needed in the interrogation room. They arrested some rebel leader and he claims someone named Revere is a traitor.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
